The Albatross
by LouBlue
Summary: Dexter/Debra. Set during S8 E4 - Scar Tissue. Dexter has a late night visitor. "Maybe this is the lull before the inevitable storm between us. I don't care because for right now I can close my eyes and convince myself that nothing has changed between us and everything that has happened in the last year was just a bad dream..."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N****: Hello all, thank you for checking out this fic. **

**This is my first Dexter fic as I've just gotten into watching it again. I watched bits here and there but have gotten caught up in seasons 6 and 7 recently, and of course the in progress 8. **

**I love twisty, dark, complicated relationships which blur lines and boundaries and I think we can all agree that the one between Dex and Deb (Debster!) is that and a whole lot more. To want a simple romantic pairing between these two is an over simplification of an incredibly complex and layered world the writers have spent almost a decade setting up now. They're not HEA material but that being said, I do think there is an amazing amount of emotion and heart to be explored between them. I personally think Debster are already engaged in a romance... an infinitely weird, twisted and complicated one but their need for one another is undeniable. And who gets to define what love is anyway? The concept of love is a nebulous one. It means different things to different people and romantic love is the most fleeting of all the personifications of love IMO. Romance is a starting point for some but not all relationships – it's what comes next, how that love evolves and grows which defines love for any given couple. **

**So, all that being said, I'm interested in pushing more boundaries in the Debster relationship and throwing up new circumstances for them to deal with. Deb's love for Dexter isn't going to 'cure' him anymore than Dex's love for Deb can fix her. It's more complicated than that with what they're offering one another and they'll never be a relationship which you can tie a neat bow on after placing it in a box. They're more than brother/sister, arguably more than lovers as well. Their lives are inexorably entwined around each other with sometimes resulting in more strength, sometimes strangling the other. **

**Never before have the words 'it's complicated' better summed up a relationship then Dexter and Debra Morgan. LOL **

**Anyways, this is me playing around with some concepts the writers have laid down between the two. I'm picking this up from S8 Episode 4 where Deb has watched the DVD Vogler made of her father struggling with living with what he'd helped created in Dexter after witnessing Dex's first kill. However, my story picks up before the scene where Deb drives the two of them into the water in a murder/suicide attempt. Man, that would have made for a short season if she'd managed to get that right. LOL That was a very Deb reaction to hearing confirmation that Dex was the reason her beloved father killed himself. I was curious to play it out another way, hence this fic. **

**For those of you who are wondering about the title, I'm taking this from the poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge – 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' (1798). For those of you who don't know the story, the short version is the Ancient Mariner's ship becomes caught in ice and everyone feared they were lost until they saw an albatross circling in the sky. An albatross is generally seen as a good omen and they were freed from the ice but then the Ancient Mariner ups and shoots the bird, thus cursing the ship. The albatross is hung around the AM's neck by way of punishment (hence the saying – an albatross around the neck) but it's too late to save the rest of the ship and the AM is forced to watch his 200 shipmates perish. The albatross finally drops from the AM neck when, even during his utter desolation, he managed to offer up praise to God of the water snakes circling his ship and the curse is lifted. **

**And so, the point of all that, I hear you ask? LOL It's simple - the albatross is a symbol of personal guilt from which freedom has to be earned. It's used as a symbol of an oppressive influence which is difficult to escape from. I felt that kind of fitted the situation both Deb and Dex find themselves in and wanted to expand that concept with this fic. **

**Okay, mammoth intro, sorry about that but if you made it this far, I really hope you'll keep on reading the actual story. **

**Hope you enjoy...**

**PS. I've tried to follow the style of the show with having Dexter's internal monolog in the first person and set apart by italic. I hope that works for you because this is the first time I've written in this kind of format and I'm rather enjoying it. :D **

**THE ALBATROSS**

**Chapter ONE**

`God save thee, ancient Mariner,  
From the fiends that plague thee thus! -  
Why look'st thou so?' -"With my crossbow  
I shot the Albatross."

_Samuel Taylor Coleridge_

_The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_

The creak of the floorboards had Dexter's eyes flying open, instantly awake from his slumber. He lifted his head from the pillow, his whole body tensing as his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark room, ready to defend himself if needed. It was the hallmark of the predator, to always be on the alert for danger and he'd always been a predator. He was in his bedroom and it was late at night, no one should be walking into his room. Dexter blinked in surprise, muscles relaxing as he quickly focused on the figure standing by his bed, looking down at him.

_Deb. _

Dexter tensed up again, so much still hanging between them that it actually made his head hurt to think about it.

_I haven't seen her for over a week now, cloistered away by Dr Vogel and her promises of being able to fix what I'd broken in my sister. Manage mys expectations the psychiatrist cautioned me but the ability to manage anything when it comes to Debra was lost to me long ago. It was lost the moment she'd found out the truth about who her brother really was, or rather what I am. Ever since walking in on me killing Travis, Debra had been an uncontrollable force in my life. One I can't fix anymore than I can quit. _

His eyes swept up and down her body, taking in the t-shirt and sweat pants shorts she was wearing.

_Her normal sleep attire._

Habit also had him checking her for weapons in the same sweep.

_Debra's heated words of regret of killing the wrong person that night in the shipping container were still ringing in my ears, maybe even carved into my flesh somewhere only the two of us could see. I didn't blame her for her emotional outburst. How could I when I agreed with her assessment? Debra did kill the wrong person. Laguerta was an innocent and I'm anything but. I can't imagine a life without my sister in it but for Debra, a life without me must seem like a sweet relief at this point. Maybe she was here to remove the suffering in her life once and for all? It was what we both knew I deserved. _

Debra threw the keys she had in her hand on his bedside table, still not speaking. Dexter relaxed again when he saw that was the only thing she was holding.

_No weapons then, only her words and I fear them the most. It's past midnight and my sister is standing over me in my bed after I destroyed everything she thought she knew about herself. Could any good come of that? Was she about to tell me she was done, that there was nothing more she had to give me? Was this the last few seconds of me being able to say I had a sister who loved me?_

Debra kicked of her shoes and silently climbed into bed with him. In shock, Dexter moved away to make room for her. Debra rolled onto her side, back to him as she curled up in the warm spot his body heat had left behind. Dexter remained still, uncertain what was happening.

_I was expecting Deb to talk, to tell me how I'd hurt her, the damage I'd done to her. I didn't need to be told because I could see the haunted look in my sister's eyes every time she looked at me. But that was how Debra operated, her emotions all raw and on the surface, for all the world to see. I'd watch her howl at the moon with each new trauma in her life and know it'd do her no good but it didn't stop her. Being able to feel that much, all the time, I just can't understand it. Sometimes I think Deb is just going to splinter into a million pieces with the force of all of those feelings and there isn't anything I can do about it. I can't even empathise. So few things touch me, her depth of emotion about so many things is a mystery to me. But now she is silent and I didn't know what that means. When she gave me emotions, I had cues to know how to respond, what she wanted from me. With silence I have no prompts to tell me my next moves. I'd always relied on Debra's vocalness and depth of emotions to guide me in our interactions. I mimic and react to the stimulus of other people, that's how I work out what they want from me. Debra has left me alone to fend for myself for the first time in our relationship and I don't know what the hell I should do next. _

His gaze drifted over the back of Debra's head, the set of her slight shoulders as she lay next to him on the bed. Dexter laid his head back on his pillow, uncertain what to do next.

_Six months of estrangement and suddenly Deb's turning up in my house in the middle of the night and climbing into my bed. _

Dexter blinked.

_What did that mean? When she was little, Deb would suffer from nightmares and she'd crawl into my bed in the middle of the night, looking to be saved from her bad dreams by her big brother. _

Dexter grimaced, regret marking his face.

_Only now I'm the nightmare she needs saving from. I'm the big bad under her bed, stealing away Deb's sleep, her rest and peace of mind. But yet she's still here. Was that what Deb was looking for tonight, a big brother to keep her safe from the monster under her bed, even if he was that monster? Maybe there was a kind of warped sense to that. Who else could protect her from the monster than the creature itself? Better the devil you know never seemed so apt as it did right then. _

The minutes ticked by. Dexter could hear Debra's breathing slowly becoming deeper and slower as she drifted off to sleep as they lay there together. He moved a little closer and put a protective arm around her waist, letting her feel the warmth of his body behind her, letting her know he was there. A part of him braced himself for rejection at the offer of solace but it didn't happen. A nearly asleep Debra reached out for his hand in the dark and laid hers over the top of his before sleep claimed her properly. Dexter settled in next to her, slowly letting the last of the tension leave his body as sleep started to nip at his heels as well.

_I don't know what any of this means and maybe I don't want to know. Maybe this is the lull before the inevitable storm between us. I don't care because for right now I can close my eyes and convince myself that nothing has changed between us and everything that has happened in the last year was just a bad dream. _

He drew in a deep breath, the scent of Debra's shampoo intoxicatingly familiar and comforting.

_That smell and the warmth of Deb's body are home to me. As much as someone like me can know a home. And maybe that home wasn't exactly a picket fenced, white-washed, all-American dream home. Maybe it was more of a gothic mansion with a pet cemetery out the front and a rusted gate which squeaked noisily in the wind which always seemed to be blowing. That didn't make it not a home, even if maybe no one else would be crazy enough to want to live in it with them. What was the saying – each to their own? _

The thought was a comforting one as well as an uncharacteristically optimistic one for him. It was also the last one Dexter had before drifting off into a dreamless sleep...

**A/N****: So, anyone curious with where I'm going with all of this? Why Deb is there? Let me know if you're interested in reading more if you are and I'll keep going. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N****: Hey guys, thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, faved and followed this fic so far – I truly appreciate it. :D **

**This ended up being quite a complicated chapter to write and I don't know if I've exactly nailed all the concepts I wanted to. There are more chapters to come, so hopefully I'll be able to smooth them out as we go along. **

**So, I'll be curious to know what you make of this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy... :D **

**Chapter TWO**

"I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it."  
~Sylvia Plath~

_The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

Dexter lay on his side, watching Debra sleep. A glance at the clock on the bedside table behind her telling him it was nearing four o'clock in the morning. He'd slept for a few hours but Debra turning over in her sleep had woken him. For an instant he hadn't known who was the warm body beside him in bed but when he'd opened his eyes Debra's head was lying facing him now, face relaxed in sleep. Her hand was resting on Dexter's pillow, palm up. The flickering of her radial pulse against her pale skin the tell tale sign of life in an otherwise unmoving figure.

_She's so still. Deb is never still. She's always moving, a frenetic energy reverberating out from every fibre of her being. When I was a kid I remember capturing fireflies in a jar. Trapped, the tiny glowing lights hurled themselves against the glass in a desperate and frenzied attempt to be free. I'd kept that jar in my room, watching over the coming days as the light slowly left their little bodies, leaving only a dried out shell to drop to the floor of their prison, every bit of their energy spent for my entertainment. Their glowing light had intrigued me as a child and I didn't care that my fascination with them would ultimately cost them their lives. _

His eyes drifted over Debra's face, knowing each line and curve so well, better than his own in fact. It had always been easier to look at her face rather than his own. At least, it used to be, before the pain he'd caused her had been etched so deeply into her eyes.

_Was Debra another firefly I've trapped inside the glass prison of her feelings for me? Am I watching her throw herself against that invisible cage again and again, draining the life force from her own body simply because I don't want to be alone in the dark? Debra is a flicker of light in my darkness but maybe all I am to her is certain death. _

Dexter closed his eyes at the painful thought. He opened his eyes again to see a strand of hair had fallen across Debra's face. Without thinking Dexter lifted a hand to gently move the length of softness back behind her ear. Debra's eyes flickered open at his touch. Dexter froze, his fingers grazing her ear. They stared at one another, the silence stretching out between them. Dexter slowly withdrew his hand, eyes never leaving hers.

_Why isn't she talking? What does she want me to say? What could I possibly say to her to make anything better between us? _

"I've missed you." His voice, raspy from lack of use, sounded too loud in the silence.

Debra didn't answer for a long moment, stretching out Dexter's nerve until she finally did speak. "I've missed you too."

Dexter couldn't hide his surprise, or his hopefulness. "You did?"

"I didn't want to." Debra's green eyes were solemn as they held his unrelentingly.

"I'm sorry." Dexter didn't know why he was apologising but it felt like he should. "How-" he cleared his throat nervously, "how are you?"

"Fucked up." Debra didn't hesitate with her answer but there was no particular force behind her words, not like there usually would have been. Gone was the usual passion from her declarations. Her continuing stillness was unnerving.

_My firefly's light is diming. Her light is going out and it's my fault. _

"You?"

Dexter swallowed; mouth suddenly dry. "The same."

Her eyes swept his face. "Yeah, but no one could ever know with you."

"You know," he answered swiftly. "You know everything about me."

_And it's killing you, eating you from the inside out. _

Debra looked away briefly. "I don't want to stay at Vogel's anymore."

Dexter frowned, wondering why. "Did something happen?"

Her gaze was capturing his again, impossible to read. "Dad killed himself, didn't he?"

Dexter's eyes went wide in surprise at the sudden change in conversation.

"I saw the tapes, the last session before he died," Debra continued on, her voice strangely lifeless. "He said he didn't know if he could live with what he and Vogel had created." Her eyes never left his. "Our father killed himself because of you, didn't he?"

Dexter was scared. The fight or flight response coursing through his body, not knowing what his answer to her question would cause to happen next. "Yes," he said hoarsely.

No emotion registered on Debra's face and that was more frightening than anything to Dexter. The silence stretched out between them yet again, setting Dexter's teeth on edge.

"What am I meant to do with that information?" she asked him at last, voice dull and lifeless.

Dexter moved his shoulders a little. "Hate me?" he offered up helplessly.

Debra gave a dry, humourless laugh. "Fuck, Dexter, what do you think I've been trying to do for the last six months?"

"Get yourself killed," replied Dexter seriously.

Her lips twisted. "Like father, like daughter, I guess. Dad was just better at it. I'm too chicken shit to make a proper job of it."

"Or maybe you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Debra pressed her lips together so hard that all the blood left them. When she spoke again, there was finally a glimpse of her old energy behind her words. "How the fuck am I meant to live with something Harry couldn't?" Her face tightened. "You're asking too much of me, Dexter."

"I know," said Dexter simply.

"If you know that, then why are you doing it?" she asked, the anger building in her voice.

"Because I need you in my life."

"You need what I can do for you," she countered. "You don't need Deb the person. You've got that Dark Passenger on board for company."

"I was wrong about the Dark Passenger," Dexter confessed. "For the longest time I thought he was separate to me, some outside force which inhabited my body and compelled me to do these terrible things but the truth is it's all me." His face clouded over. "There is no Dark Passenger, Deb, there's just me."

_There it was, the bitter and unflinching truth laid out in front of my sister. I couldn't blame it on some twisted entity compelling me to do what I do. There was no more compartmentalising, all of the things I'd done belonged to me, Dexter Morgan, and no one else. Was there anyway Deb could accept that I was just as much a serial killer as I was her brother? _

Deb closed her eyes, a dry laugh escaping her lips.

_I didn't expect that. _

"What's so funny?" he asked cautiously.

Debra opened her eyes and looked him squarely in the eye. "Irony and the way it sucks ass."

Dexter's brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you finding out you don't have a Dark Passenger while I find out I do."

"Deb," he said, voice low and urgent, "you don't have a Dark Passenger. You're not a murder. Just because you've killed doesn't make you a killer."

_We're not the same. I need Debra to understand that. _

Debra shook her head as it lay on the pillow. "It's you, dumbass," she said simply, "you're my Dark Passenger."

The breath left Dexter's body in a painful rush, her words impacting him more than Deb could have known.

Debra was unwavering in her revelations. "You're my compulsion, Dexter, the thing I can't quit. You overtake me so completely at times that I'm no longer Debra, I'm Dexter's Deb and she's capable of just about goddamn anything." Her voice wavered. "Do you know how fucking frightening that is to realise, Dex?"

_I was struggling to know what to say. The idea of a Dark Passenger had always brought me solace, being able to place the responsibility of my actions on his shoulders and leave myself blameless. He was a welcome part of my life. For Deb he was a terrifying intruder, one she had no way to protect herself against. _

"And you know what the scariest thing is?"

"What?" Dexter croaked. His heart was pounding, eyes on her face, trying to prepare himself for what Debra was going to say next.

"I don't want to be free of him." Debra's tone was sober but unwavering. "I spent six months trying to pretend you didn't exist, Dexter, that you weren't curled up inside of me, with me no matter how far away I went, no matter how drunk or stoned I got, my Dark Passenger was always there. I hated myself for letting him in, for giving him that kind of control over me." Her expression was haunted. "My weakness caused LaGuerta's death."

"I caused LaGuerta's death," said Dexter tightly, "not you. It was all my fault, Debra, you know that and you should hate me for it, not yourself."

Debra gave a sad smile. "You know when I first found out the truth about you, Dex, when you first told me about your Dark Passenger, I couldn't understand why you didn't want to be free of him. It was so fucked up to me how you didn't even seem to want to fight him, when he made you do all those horrible things."

"I told you, Deb, I don't believe in him anymore," said Dexter unhappily. "It's all me."

"And you're alright about that?"

"At first it frightened me but then there was this sense of-" he moved his shoulders restlessly, trying to find the right word, "-liberation, I guess. Like I could see myself as a whole person for the first time, not just as a shell being occupied by these different personas."

"We're so different, you and me," replied Debra unevenly. "We're the complete fucking opposite in every way. I always thought I was a whole person, responsible for my own actions but this last year, covering up your crimes, protecting you, going against everything I believed about myself, I realised at some point it wasn't just me in my head anymore."

"I'm sorry," said Dexter sadly. "I never wanted that for you. Harry and I, we both worked so hard to keep you out of my world, to keep you free of all of this."

"If you'd wanted me to be safe from your world then you would have left, long ago," she pointed out.

_She's right. I should have left her life. Then Deb might have had a chance at a real one, not the nightmare I've forced upon her. I'd always sworn to protect her but the truth was I refused to keep Deb safe from the biggest danger in her life – me. _

"I know," he confessed raggedly.

Debra's expression was intent. "And you know what I would have done if you did that?"

"Had a good life," offered up Dexter hopelessly.

"I would have followed you," she responded. "I would have hunted you down and asked what the fuck was going on, goddamn abandoning me like that, you piece of shit."

_She would have too. I can just picture it – a furious Debra on my doorstep in some faraway state, swearing her head off at me for cutting her out of my life. She'd have told me to pull my head out of my ass and that I was stuck with her. _

Debra lips curled up in a sad, resigned smile. "You see, there is no saving me, Dexter. I'm fucked, no matter what you do or don't do, I'm always going to self-destruct. It's who I am."

Dexter reached out a hand and laced it through the fingers of Debra's hand as it lay on the pillow between them. "Don't say that," he said painfully.

"It's true and no one has been able to handle that about me except for you, Dexter. You're the only one who hasn't left me, no matter how fucked up I got." Her chin quivered a little. "I fucking hate that you're a serial killer. A part of me understands but another part of me is shit scared I'm going to lose you because of it. I didn't know how to reconcile that part of you with the brother I'd known and loved all my life." She gave a derisive snort. "Fuck, I still don't, probably never will. All I know is that I need you in my life because as fucking horrible as it gets sometimes between us, to have nothing between us would be so much fucking worse."

Dexter's fingers tightened their grip on Debra's hand, momentarily overcome by a strong emotion Vogel had informed him he couldn't feel.

_Debra wasn't like Hannah. Hannah accepted the killer in me effortlessly, because she was the same kind of person. Her acceptance of me had cost her nothing, it was easy for her to stay with me. But for Deb, it had sent her to Hell and back with only the promise of more to come. But she was here, fighting for what was between us, knowing there was going to be a huge cost to herself but choosing me anyway. _

_Harry hadn't known what he was getting when he'd picked up that blood soaked four year old all those years ago, he'd just been forced to manage the responsibility he'd unwittingly taken on as best he could. Rita had never known the real me to have a chance at accepting anything. Lumen needed what I offered and Hannah understood, so for those two it was easy to have me in their lives. Deb was the only one who saw me for who I really was and stayed, not because it was easy or convenient, but because whatever the cost to her, there was something she saw in me that made the ride worth the fall. _

_I'd always thought acceptance should come easily if it was true acceptance. Looking at Debra now, I realise how naive I was. Debra's is looking at me right now, telling me she has made a place in her life for me, knowing all that she does about me and that she's walking willingly into more pain because of it. That old saying about bravery isn't the absence of fear but the willingness to go on despite of it seemed to fit this perfectly. Acceptance wasn't the absence of doubt and fear, true acceptance was a way of finding your way through those things. That's how you knew it was real. _

Debra's lips twisted in a self-depreciating smile. "I guess Vogel would call this co-dependence."

Dexter couldn't take his eyes off her as an unfamiliar feeling of triumph swept through his body. "Fuck Vogel," he said decisively.

_The woman had been moving us around like pieces on a chessboard since I'd first met her. Before that even. Vogel had stuck the label of psychopath on me and declared me devoid of all emotion but if this feeling bubbling up inside of me wasn't happiness, then what was it? Who was she to tell me what my feelings were, when she'd manipulated me all of my life with a clinical detachment any psychopath would be pleased to call their own? I wasn't one of her subjects she could neatly stick in a box and write a label for. What Deb and I share wasn't so easy to define and dismiss. _

Debra grinned, her first proper smile in what felt like forever. "Fuck but I love it when you talk dirty, Dex."

Dexter grinned back at her for her playfulness, feeling like a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. On impulse, something he almost never gave into, Dexter closed the small distance between them, pressing a hard kiss of relief and gratitude against Debra's lips. He'd caught her by surprise because Debra gave a little gasp of surprise and their kiss was inadvertently deepened as her lips parted. They'd kissed on the lips in the past, brief pecks of familiarity but Dexter had never had the taste of her in his mouth before. He lingered, surprised by her sweetness, not thinking about what he was doing. Debra broke the kiss and suddenly her warm breath was on his face as they lay there, almost nose to nose, staring at each other wide eyed.

_Fuck, what am I doing? I need to tell Debra that was stupid and I'm sorry. I need to get out of here. To protect what we have between us. _

The moment stretched out between them, no sound in the room except for their combined, uneven breathing. Neither one seemed capable of movement all of a sudden. Abruptly Dexter put a hand up and cupped the back of Debra's head, dragging her lips toward him so he could taste her once again, unable to hear the warnings his internal voice was trying to scream at him over the thundering of his heart...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N****: Okay, guys, this is a big chapter which encompasses a lot of themes I'm trying to lay down and explore. What that means is there is going to be a lot of head thinking going on by our Dex. I hope it's not all too much and garbled to you. It makes sense to me, but I'm the one writing it, so that isn't saying much. .**

**I'm just thrilled that folks are taking the time to read, review, fave and follow this story. Thank you all so much, it really does encourage me to keep going. It's currently 2am here as I post this. I started writing after I got home from late shift and that normally never happens – I'm a write in the morning kinda gal, so the muse must be really wanting to tell this story. ;) **

**So, without anymore waffle from me (because there is plenty in the chapter), I'll let you read on... **

**Chapter THREE**

"I get up and pace the room, as if I can leave my guilt behind me.

But it tracks me as I walk, an ugly shadow made by myself."  
_Rosamund Lupton_

_Sister_

The first thing Dexter noticed was a warm breath on his face. His eyes snapped open, instantly awake and he jerked back in shock at seeing a smiling face so close to his, their noses bumping up against each other.

"Hello, Daddy," said Harrison chirpily.

Dexter pulled back a little, so they won't so close and quickly smiled, trying to shake off the deep slumber he'd just been abruptly pulled from. "Hey, buddy," he said croakily. Suddenly memories from last night bombarded him and Dexter tensed, his head snapping around to the other side of the bed. It was empty and he let out an unsteady breath of relief.

_Maybe everything last night had just been a dream? _

Everything was a jumble in Dexter's brain as it groggily tried to separate reality from the dreamscape he'd just been occupying.

"We're making pancakes," said Harrison brightly. "Mine's going to be an elephant. What shape do you want yours to be, Daddy?"

Dexter looked back at his son, blinking rapidly to try and clear his mind. "We?" he asked uncertainly, heart beating erratically.

"Me and Jamie."

"Jamie and I," Dexter corrected him distractedly.

_No Debra. Maybe it had all been a dream? A particularly vivid one, but still just a phantom of my imagination._

Dexter moved to sit up in bed and then realised he was naked. He lay back down again.

_So, not a dream then._

_Fuck. _

Harrison tugged on his arm a little impatiently. "Well, Daddy?"

Dexter looked at him blankly. "Well, what?"

"What do you want Jamie to make you?"

_How is she at time machines? _

Dexter gave an easy smile, years of practice at putting up a front of nothing ever being wrong making it automatic. "An elephant sounds good to me too."

Harrison grinned. "Okay," he said happily and bounced off to relay the important information to the young Nanny.

Dexter waited until he was gone to get out of bed. He walked into the bathroom and immediately turned on the shower, working on auto-pilot. Catching his reflection in the mirror, Dexter stopped and stared at the man looking back at him. The clear outline from a bite mark on his left shoulder stood out prominently, leaving little doubt that this morning had really happened.

_Debra was wrapped all around him, legs entangled with his, body moving with his with increasing urgency. She bucked up under him, a strangled cry escaping her lips before sinking her teeth into his flesh and choking out the rest of her pleasure there. The sharp pain radiated out from the small violence, tightening Dexter's already hypersensitive nerve endings and driving him into a frenzy of his own. All-encompassing waves of pleasure over took him, consuming him in a riot of spasming delirium... _

Dexter reached out unsteadily and gripped the edge of the bathroom cabinet for support for his suddenly shaking legs. "Oh God," he groaned unevenly.

_What have I done? Deb and I had finally managed to broker some kind of peace between us and the first thing I do is destroy it. _

The thought made Dexter physically sick and he was forced to swallow hard to combat the rising bile from his empty stomach. He tried to imagine what Debra would be thinking right now and failed. Dexter couldn't even organise his own jumbled thoughts. Trying to second guess Debra's was just laughable at this moment. Numb, Dexter stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash over him. He finished showering, dressed and joined Jamie and Harrison for breakfast. Dexter joined in on their conversation, not really registering what they were talking about. His mind was with Debra and wondering what she was thinking and doing right then. Dexter's phone rang in the middle of a long story Harrison was telling him about his best friend Lewis' new puppy and how it ate its own poop. Harrison thought that was hysterically funny and on any other day, Dexter would have been entertained by his son's enjoyment of saying the word poop over and over again. Vogel's name flashed up on the screen. Dexter tensed.

_Maybe the call was about Debra. After all, she was still technically staying with Vogel. Had Deb gone back to Vogel and told her what had happened between us this morning? _

Dexter's jaw hardened at the thought but he forced a smile to his lips for Harrison's benefit, interrupting the child's hilarity. "Sorry, pal, I've got to take this." He picked up the phone and walked back into the bedroom, making sure not to rush to answer. Dexter kept his voice carefully neutral as he answered the phone. "Yes?"

"Dexter, I was hoping to speak with you. Can we meet in our usual place?"

Dexter stared unseeingly at a point on the wall. "Why?"

"I know you're still upset with me over my note keeping, but we need to talk."

His hand tightened on the phone. "Why?" asked Dexter bitterly. "Looking for another page to add to your next book?"

_If Vogel knows Deb and I slept together last night then the woman probably has fodder for a dozen new chapters for that book. _

The thought made Dexter angry, the tension rising in his body. Vogel might be able to look at their lives as some kind of intellectual exercise but he and Deb were living through all of this confusion and pain.

"Debra didn't come home last night."

Blood left Dexter's knuckles as his hold on the hapless cell phone became a death grip.

"Dexter, I'd rather talk to you face to face about this. Can we put aside our differences and concentrate on Debra's welfare, just for now?"

Dexter looked up at the ceiling, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "When?"

_If Vogel knows then she might have some insight into how Deb was coping with this latest development between us. I hate that I might still need Vogel but there is nothing I can do about it, for now. _

"Can you make it in half an hour, the usual place?"

"Yes." He hung up, not up for anymore conversation right then. Dexter headed out to the kitchen. "Sorry, got to go in early to work, guys." The lie left his lips so effortlessly. A quick goodbye kiss for Harrison and some last minute reminders from Jamie about some domestic issues and then Dexter was leaving the apartment, heading to his car. He barely registered the drive over to the beachfront coffee shop he had been meeting Vogel at for the last week for daily updates on Debra. In his head, he was turning over ways to manage the situation if Vogel did know about him and Deb. Everything Dexter came up with kept coming back to simply killing Vogel. He really did need to relieve some tension. Pulling up at the coffee shop, Dexter saw Vogel was already waiting for him. He took a steadying breath and then climbed out of the car, walking up to her.

Vogel smiled. "Thank you for coming, Dexter. I wasn't sure you would."

_That was a lie. Vogel had played her trump card by using Debra's name in her phone call to me. She knew I'd always come running when it came to my sister. _

Dexter didn't register his disbelief on his face though, not wanting to give her anything. "Can we make this quick? I don't want to be late for work."

Vogel inclined her head, letting his abruptness slide off her. "As I said on the phone, Debra didn't come home last night."

Dexter lifted his chin, bracing himself for what was about to come.

"I'm worried about her," continued on Vogel. "We've made some real progress recently but progress can often be followed by a relapse."

_Does sleeping with your brother count as a relapse? I didn't want an answer to my own question. _

"Debra has a lot of guilt when it comes to you, Dexter."

_Hard to believe it could be more than I have when it comes to her. _

"She's still confused about a lot of things." Vogel held his gaze steadily. "I don't think she's ready to go back to living alone. Regardless of what you think of me and my methods, Dexter, they have been helping Debra and I'd like to continue to offer that help to her. She's a very damaged young woman and I can offer her a perspective that you can't because you're too close to her."

_Vogel doesn't know about last night. She can't, otherwise this would be a very different conversation. _

The realisation was a comforting one for Dexter. "I thought you said I didn't know how to be close to someone?" he countered coolly. "Now I'm too close to Deb. So, which is it?"

"You believe yourself to be close to Debra but you will never truly drop your guard around her and let her all the way in," said Vogel confidently. "It's not in your nature to expose yourself like that."

_If I needed confirmation that Vogel doesn't have any more of a handle on mine and Deb's relationship then we do ourselves, then this is it. Deb had me body and soul only a few short hours ago and while I have no idea what is going to come of that or what I even want to come of it, the experience still stands. _

"If Deb doesn't want to stay with you, then I can't make her," said Dexter dismissively.

_Vogel's of no use to me now when it comes to Deb. I'm wasting my time. _

Dexter turned to leave, but Vogel stalled him.

"Dexter, wait."

He turned back around reluctantly.

"What about Yates?"

"I told you, I'm done. You're on your own."

Vogel looked away, clearly upset by his assertion. "He wants me dead, Dexter." She looked back at him, holding his gaze squarely. "Can you live with yourself if he succeeds, knowing you could have prevented it?"

Dexter arched a cool eyebrow. "It's kind of interesting you're appealing to the conscience of a man you've diagnosed as a psychopath, Doctor. I don't know how to feel, remember?" With that last barb delivered, Dexter turned on his heel and walked away from the older woman. He headed to his car and unlocked it, climbing into the driver's seat but not immediately starting the engine. Dexter sat in the car, staring at the wheel but seeing nothing as his thoughts raced. He was spending all of this time wondering what Deb is thinking about last night while not even knowing what he thought about it. The sex had been amazing, both of them swept up in this moment of insanity but he was still struggling to know why it had happened.

Perhaps it was because of the months of estrangement between them which had compelled Dexter to cross that final boundary between them? With Vogel constantly poking and prodding his relationship with his sister, maybe he just needed to reassure himself that nothing the psychiatrist had said was true. Dexter had never doubted his love for Deb before Vogel's relentless analysing of their bond. The older woman's assertions of Dexter not having any understanding of the emotions he proclaimed to feel when it came to Deb had rattled him. She'd made him start to doubt himself, like the colour blind man suddenly realising that he didn't actually know what the colour green looked like, not experiencing the colour the same way the rest of the world did. But when Deb had shown up last night and said all those things to him, Dexter had realised that if he was the emotional equivalent of colour blind, that didn't mean he still couldn't feel love in his own way, just like the colour blind could see green in their own way.

_Who is Vogel to sit in judgement of that experience? Who is anyone? _

The trouble was, as good and justifiable as all that sounded in Dexter's head, he couldn't shake the feeling that what he'd allowed to happen between him and Deb was, in reality, the epitome of selfishness Vogel continually accused him of.

_I needed to be close to Deb last night, to wash away all the fear and uncertainty of losing her from my life these last months. I knew she was in love with me but I let the sex happen anyway, not caring about anything in those moments. Did I just use sex to slam the lid onto my firefly's jar and screw it down tight? Debra had offered to stay with me of her own free but wasn't that enough for me? Did I have to make sure she was trapped forever? What if my need to keep Debra in my life at any cost means I've guaranteed to have lost her forever? _

The thought galvanised Dexter into action, ineffectual as it was. His hands gripped the steering wheel and he shook it violently, a hot rage at himself overcoming him. "FUCK!" he screamed, taking out his self-loathing on the innocent steering wheel. A few passersby's stopped and stared at him for his violent outburst. Dexter instantly calmed down, at least outwardly. The turmoil still raged inside of him but Harry's training was always there and the mask came down. Dexter reached out and started the car with an apparent air of serenity, driving to work. He checked his phone at least half a dozen times on the short trip, hoping Debra might call and put him out of his misery. Five minutes from the station, his phone actually did ring, causing Dexter to start violently. He fumbled to answer it, disappointment flashing through him when he saw it wasn't Debra's name on the screen. "Hey, Angel," he said calmly, "what's up?"

"Got a fresh one for you," replied his friend. "Meet us there." Angel gave the address for the crime scene and then Dexter was swinging the car around to head there.

Fifteen minutes later he was crouching over the body of a young woman, half of her face caved in from the violent beating she'd taken. Her body had been dumped out in the open, her killer not caring that she would be found easily.

Masuka came to stand beside him, camera hanging around his neck. He cocked his bald head and regarded the woman with interest. "Guess this one's going to be a closed casket," Masuka observed idly. "She must have pissed someone off real bad to get a beating like that."

Dexter looked up from where he was crouched over the body, irritated by the other man blitheness today, when normally he would have let it wash off him. "So, you're saying she asked for this?" he snapped.

Masuka looked a little taken aback by the fierceness of the question. "Ah, no, man, I was just making conversation."

Dexter turned back to the girl, annoyed with himself for showing emotion. This thing with Deb had him on edge.

"What's that on your shoulder?"

Dexter twisted around to stare up at the other man again. "What?"

Masuka pointed a latex gloved hand at Dexter's chest. "Your shoulder, what's that, a bite mark?"

Dexter looked down and saw that his shirt had opened a little and the mark Debra had left on his body was clearly visible. He quickly stood up, tugging on his shirt front. "It's nothing," he said shortly.

Masuka had a big smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had a little fun last night? That why you all cranky this morning, Dex, not enough sleep last night?" He leered at Dexter and waggled his eyebrows at him. "Kitty like to scratch?"

In his mind's eye Dexter could see himself snapping the neck of the man he'd work beside for more than ten years. He could see the surprised look in Masuka's eyes before the inevitable blankness filled them and saw nothing ever again. A surge of satisfaction pulsed through Dexter's body at the thought. Dexter reined in the instinct to unleash his violent frustrations on the unsuspecting man. "You taken enough pictures yet?"

Masuka wasn't to be so easily distracted. "What's the problem, Dex, was she kinda homey? I know it's been awhile, were you scraping the bottom of the barrel last night?" He wrinkled his face in concern. "She wasn't a fat chick, was she?"

The unbidden memory of Debra's lithe body stretched out in his bed came back to Dexter, of him fitting his hard lines against the graceful sweep of her curves and losing himself in that softness. He swallowed hard, a fine sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Masuka didn't seem to notice as he continued on with his inane chatter. "Man, they're hard work, so much more acreage to cover but it's worth it because they're always so eager to please."

Angel came up on the other side of the body. "So, what have we got here?"

"Dex is banging an orca," offered up Masuka cheerfully.

Angel looked confused as Dexter's one of his hands curled up into a fist. "What?"

Dexter forced himself back under control, loosening his fist and opting to ignore Masuka. "Her neck is broken but it didn't happen straight away. I'd say the weapon is most likely going to be something like a baseball bat. You can see the blood trail where she crawled on her hands and knees trying to get away until he managed the death blow. Looks like a lot of the facial damage was inflicted post mortem."

Angel shook his head in disgust. "That's one angry and sick motherfucker."

"I've got all I need," continued on Dexter. He looked at Angel. "I've got a thing with Harrison for a couple of hours this morning. You mind if I take off?" He needed to sort this things out with Debra before he killed someone, anyone.

Angel nodded. "Sure. You'll be back after lunch?"

_Assuming I find Deb and my world hasn't ended. _

"Yes."

"Okay," said Angel easily as he turned to leave, "see you then."

Masuka was looking at him with a knowing smile, obviously not convinced by the Harrison story. "So, Captain Ahab, off to Moby your Dick, huh?"

Dexter turned away, pulling off his latex gloves as he did. "That doesn't even make any kind of sense," he said flatly, starting to walk back towards his car.

Masuka called after him. "Hey, I had to come up with it on the fly. What do you expect? I thought it was pretty good."

Dexter didn't answer, just climbed into his car and started it up but not before checking to see if he'd missed any calls. He hadn't. Not letting himself think about it, Dexter quickly dialled Debra's number as he pulled away from the crime scene. It went to message bank. Dexter cleared his throat nervously. "Ah, hi, Deb, it's me. Can you give me a call back?" He hung up. We need to talk seemed kind of redundant at this point. Debra always carried her phone and she rarely didn't answer it. The fact that she wasn't answering it made Dexter nervous.

_Was Deb screening my call? She left my life for six months over LaGuerta's death. What was Deb going to do over this latest taboo we'd managed to breach? _

The question was haunting Dexter. The fact Debra wasn't on his doorstep, demanding to know what this all meant didn't feel like a good sign to him. He could handle a yelling and screaming Deb, but a disappearing one drove Dexter to the edge of reason. A quick phone call to her work told him she hadn't turned up today. Dexter ground his teeth in frustration.

_She's not at Vogel's, not at work, not returning my phone calls, where could she be? _

All Dexter could think was Debra might have gone home. He went to turn the car in the direction of her apartment but then remembered he didn't have her keys on the set he was using for the car. If Debra was home and refused to let him in to talk, he might need them. Dexter quickly headed back to his apartment, wanting to retrieve Deb's house keys and then continue onto her place to see if she was there. Pulling into his apartment's parking area, Dexter climbed out of the car. The visitor's car park was three over from his park and a dark stain on the asphalt caught Dexter's attention. It was the car park Deb always used when she came to visit him and the idle thought that her car might be leaking oil came to him. That might be a good ice breaker when he saw her again, particularly if she was refusing to speak to him. Dexter headed over to check out the stain, just as his phone rang. He crouched down as he reached for his cell, one hand reaching out to sample the dark spot with a curious finger as he registered the name on his screen. Dexter quickly answered it, relief flooding his voice. "Deb," he said, forgetting he should be nervous for a moment and just happy that she'd called, "I was starting to worry." As he said that, Dexter looked down at the finger he'd dragged through the stain and saw they were stained an all too familiar dark red colour.

A man's voice was in his ear. "Who said you should stop?" the voice asked tauntingly.

The blood in Dexter's veins ran cold as he looked at his stained fingers, the breath leaving his body in a painful rush as suddenly everything abruptly got a whole lot worse in his world...

**A/N****: Dun dun dahhh! (or however you spell that LOL) The plot thickens. **

**For those of you not familiar with my style, I do love the odd cliff hanger here and there. You have been warned. ;) **

**Hope this chapter wasn't too hard going for you all and you'll hang with me to find out what has happened to Deb. :D **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N****: Hello, all, back for another chapter. **

**So, this chapter doesn't have as much introspection in it, more exposition. Hopefully that means it won't be as heavy going for you all. The next chapter will have some stuff from Deb's POV. I thought it was necessary to round things out a bit. This chapter is still all very much Dexter though. Usually I don't tell stories from so much of one POV, but, seeing as the show itself is structured that way, I suppose it's okay. **

**Anyways, I've got a few twists and turns for this story yet, and I hope people will stick around and hopefully enjoy them. **

**Okay then, on with the show, I guess. :)**

**PS. The quote at the beginning doesn't really capture the mood of the chapter but it made me laugh, so I had to go with it. LOL **

**Chapter FOUR**

"Personally, I say,

"Out of the frying pan and into the deadly pit filled with sharks

who are wielding chainsaws with killer kittens stapled to them."

However, that one's having a rough time catching on."

_Brandon Sanderson_

_Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones_

Dexter didn't have to be told who the voice was at the other end of the phone. Instinct told him the answer to the question he hadn't asked.

_Yates. _

The shutters came down. Dexter could feel the emotion draining from his body as he switched to survival mode. He straightened up, every ounce of his energy focused on the conversation and taking control of the situation. "What do you want, Yates?"

"Hey, you're pretty smart, hero," noted Yates at Dexter's quick deduction. "But you weren't too smart when you got yourself mixed up with Evelyn Vogel."

"Get to the point," said Dexter coldly.

"You're interfering in my business, now I'm interfering in yours."

Dexter closed his eyes, feeling the newly discovered blood drip off his suddenly limp hand.

_Deb. Please, no, she can't take this right now, not after everything that has happened. _

"I'm gonna keep this simple. I want Vogel and you're going to bring her to me. You seemed to have worked out what's in it for you already. You get your wife back, I get Vogel and then we go our separate ways."

_Yates called Deb my wife. He must have followed me home and saw Deb leaving the apartment early this morning and taken her. He was probably waiting for her by her car and saw the chance to grab some leverage over me. _

"I'm sure Debbie is anxious to get back to your son. You know how mothers and sons are."

_Deb kept a picture of the three of us in her wallet. It had been Harrison's fourth birthday party and we'd looked like the family we are, just not the one Yates thinks. Yates has seen her last name is the same as mine and put two and two together and gotten five. The fact he called my sister Debbie meant he wasn't getting his information from her. Debra had always hated the name Debbie, broke a kid's nose once who called her that in school. Even in the midst of a kidnapping drama Deb would have taken the time to yell at him not to call her fucking Debbie. It is just who my sister is. _

The fact that Debra obviously hadn't had a chance to say something on the subject of her name was a cause of concern to Dexter. "I want to speak to her." Correcting Yates' assumptions about their relationship seemed a moot point to Dexter. The point that mattered was he'd do anything to get Deb back, regardless of her being his wife, sister or some kind of confusing grey mix of the two.

"No."

"Then we're done here," said Dexter tightly. "You're not getting anything from me until I know Debra is still alive."

"You'll just have to take my word for it, hero."

"No, I don't." Dexter abruptly hung up, ending the phone call. He stared at the phone in his hand, heart pounding painfully in his chest at calling the other man out. Dexter didn't know Yates well but his lizard brain told him the man would call back, that he wouldn't be able to handle being so summarily dismissed. He was the yipping dog of serials killers, desperate for his victims to take notice of him and do as he wanted.

_I need to get this situation back onto my terms. Debra's life depends on it. _

The seconds ticked away and Dexter's nerves tightened with each one. He could feel the sweat gathering on his top lip as he stared at the phone in his hand, willing it to ring.

_Have I made a mistake? Is Yates taking his impotent rage at me out on Deb right now? Or is he scrambling to know what to do next because she's already dead? _

Dexter's insides churned at either scenario, even though no one passing by would have been able to see any signs of his inner turmoil. His eyes bore a hole into the phone in his hand, the inanimate object having every single piece of his attention.

_Ring, just ring. Please._

More painful seconds dragged by, making Dexter want to scream but then the phone vibrated with a chirpy tune. He forced himself to wait for three rings before answering. Debra's breathless voice was in his ear.

"Dexter, I'm in a van-!" Her rushed words were abruptly cut off and Dexter could hear a grunt of pain from Debra as she must have been roughly shoved away.

A shudder of relief ran through Dexter's body at the sound of Debra's voice.

_She's still alive. Still alive and thinking like a cop. Deb had said they were in a van. That meant he was mobile. A moving target – never an easy thing. _

Yate's voice was back. "Don't you ever hang up on me again," he snarled. "Now you do exactly what I tell you."

Yates was grappling to get control back of the situation and Dexter let him think he had it. Deb was still alive. Nothing on this earth was going to stop him finding her now. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go and get Vogel and head to the south side docks."

_Smart, those docks have been abandoned for years. Yates has thought this through, most likely used them before. It's a good place to kill people and dispose of the bodies. Vogel's former patient thinks he's going to be the one doing the killing today, but Yates doesn't know about me and my particular gift for death. _

"Which part?"

"I'll ring back in half an hour and give you an exact location."

_Making sure I can't get ahead of him by withholding that information. _

"What are you going to do with Dr Vogel?" pushed Dexter.

_The more we talk, the more you reveal yourself to me. _

"The question you should be asking yourself is how Debbie and me are going to spend our time waiting for you to go get Vogel. You've snared yourself one fine lookin' woman, hero. I'm sure we're gonna have some real special moments together, just the two of us."

Dexter's hand tightened on the phone, eyelids drooping as he pictured the way he was going to slit Yates' throat and watch the blood drain from his body, spilling out onto the ground in a comfortingly familiar halo of red. The mental image helped calm Dexter down and focus. Killing Yates was going to afford him a special kind of pleasure because of what he was putting Deb through.

"You'd better have Vogel when I call. You don't want to disappoint your wife, hero, because you really don't want me consoling her."

_Don't react. Don't tell him you're going to make his death slow and painful because of what he's done. That no one hurts my family without paying the ultimate price. _

"Half an hour," repeated Dexter, voice devoid of emotion.

"Half an hour," agreed Yates and then he was hanging up.

Dexter stood there for a moment, quickly formulating some kind of plan in his head. The first thing he needed was Vogel. Dexter was in his car, heading towards the older woman's house and trying to keep the thoughts of what Yates might be doing to Debra out of his head. Those images made him unable to think straight, painful emotion swamping every other process Dexter had. Deb didn't need his rage right now, she needed the cold, calculating Dexter. The blood-thirsty Dexter would come out when he had Yates bound up on a table, begging for his miserable life. He almost smiled at that thought. Almost.

Heading over to Vogel's, Dexter took care not to speed, even though his urges were telling him to run every red light in town. Years of experience had taught Dexter not to draw attention to himself. He couldn't be slowed down by an overzealous cop pulling him over for a speeding ticket. Pulling up at Vogel's, Dexter headed directly to her front door and knocked, waiting impatiently for her to answer. He kept his manner carefully neutral when she answered though.

Vogel arched an eyebrow to see him standing there. "Dexter, this is a surprise."

Dexter grimaced. "I know we didn't exactly part of the best terms but I've just been speaking to Deb and she wants to see you."

"Of course," said Vogel easily. She looked past Dexter. "Is Debra waiting in the car?"

"No, she's at her place. Deb asked if I could bring you over."

Vogel frowned. "She wants me to come to her house?"

Dexter lifted one shoulder and feigned ignorance. "Something about wanting to have the home field advantage. I guess she's got something she wants to say to both of us."

Vogel hesitated but then relented. "If that would make Debra feel more comfortable."

"It would," agreed Dexter readily, resisting the urge to check his watch and see how much precious time this conversation was eating into.

"I'll just get my bag."

Dexter nodded. "I'll be in the car."

"I can take my own and follow you."

"No, I'll drive. Parking around Deb's place is murder. I can drop you back here afterwards, it's not a problem."

_Just shut the hell up and come with me already!_

Dexter somehow managed not to scream the words at the procrastinating woman.

Vogel hesitated. "If you're sure you don't mind."

Dexter's lips turned up in a fake smile. "I don't mind."

A few minutes later they were finally on the road, much to Dexter's relief.

"Do you have any idea what Debra wants to speak to us about?" Vogel quizzed him.

"No, just that she wanted both of us there," Dexter lied easily.

"Debra is at a crossroads," mused Vogel. "This could be about anything."

_This was about keeping Deb alive, that is all that matters now. _

They drove in silence for a little while, Dexter counting down the minutes until he was due that phone call from Yates.

Vogel finally looked around at the changing scenery out the window and frowned, taking in the fact they were driving in a less populated part of town now. "Dexter, where are we going? Where are we?"

Dexter didn't answer, just kept driving. He could feel Vogel's concerned gaze on him.

"Dexter?"

_She knows something is wrong. _

"Yates has Deb."

The words hung between them. Finally Vogel broke the silence.

"And you have me," stated Vogel calmly.

Dexter stared straight ahead, eyes on the road. "Yes."

Vogel's eyes were on the road in front of her now too, as she absorbed the information and all of its possible implications. "It's polite to ask, you know," she pointed out, almost idly, clearly having worked out the situation.

"That implies you had a choice," said Dexter unapologetically. "I need you to get Deb back. I wasn't willing to negotiate over that." He half-expected her to say something about such a revealing statement but Vogel was clearly a little pre-occupied.

"So, you're going to hand me over to a serial killer?"

"I'm going to use you as bait." Dexter glanced over at her. "I can't take the risk that Yates had a way of watching your house. I won't use a bluff when it comes to Deb's life." He looked back at the road.

_Not again. The phone call bluff had been too close for comfort._

Dexter's expression became determined. "But don't worry, I'm intending to get you both out of this."

Vogel leaned back in her seat. "I'm relieved to hear that. Do you mind telling me how exactly?"

"It'll come to me."

"That's not overly reassuring," came the dry rejoinder.

"It's all I've got right now. Yates has only given me half an hour to get you."

"Clever," observed Vogel, "not enough time to organise any real plan against him."

_She's taking this well. You'd think Vogel was kidnapped by one serial killer to be given to another one every day. _

"Crazy, not stupid," agreed Dexter.

"Are you sure Debra is still even alive?" asked Vogel, not unkindly.

Dexter knuckles whitened on the steering wheel a little. "Yes."

"How?"

He moved his shoulders restlessly. "I'd know." Dexter could feel Vogel's look of surprise his way at his assertion but refused to acknowledge it. "Besides, I've spoken to her."

"How long ago?"

Dexter knew what Vogel was implying. "Deb is a survivor. She'll keep herself alive until I can get there."

"And do what?"

"I just need to get close to him," said Dexter grimly. "I can take care of Yates."

"He'll keep Debra and me between the two of you," said Vogel quietly. "He shies away from conflict with someone his own size."

"Then he shouldn't have started this," said Dexter menacingly.

"Dexter, I care for Debra, I want to help but I'm not sure this is the way to go about it."

"I love Debra," he countered flatly, "so I outrank you on that front. That means I get to call the shots."

"You may not be thinking straight," pointed out Vogel carefully. "Your judgement becomes cloudy when it comes to Debra. You don't even have a plan, Dexter. Lives are at stake and-"

"You think I don't know that?" Dexter interrupted her sharply. "Deb's life is in danger because of me... again."

"I came to you for help," Vogel reminded him. "You didn't start this Dexter."

_If only that were true. _

"Harry came to you because he needed help in dealing with me," he said harshly. "You wouldn't have been in Deb's life if it wasn't for me and Yates wouldn't have known anything about her." Dexter's jaw hardened as he stared at the road ahead. "It always comes back to me."

"That is a very ego-centric way to interpret the world, Dexter. People like you see themselves as the centre of not only their world but everyone else's too and it's simply not true."

"There are no people like me," ground out Dexter in frustration. "You keep trying to put some neat, all-encompassing label on me and it doesn't work." He took his eyes off the road to glare at her briefly. "Stop trying to psycho-analyse me. It's not the time."

"You're asking me to trust you with my life, Dexter. You can understand I want to be certain of your state of mind."

"Is anyone ever certain of something like that?" he asked bitterly, concentrating on the road again. "I'm going to get Deb back and I'm going to kill Yates. There is nothing else to talk about."

Vogel opened her mouth to respond to Dexter's declaration but his cell phone finally rang, pre-empting further conversation on the matter.

Dexter answered the phone, voice hard. "I've got her. Let's do this."

"Good boy, hero. This is all going to be over soon."

Dexter's eyes grew cold at hearing how pleased with himself the other man sounded.

_Yes, it is. Enjoy your last moments of life, Yates, because you're going to die screaming, very soon._

The thought was a soothing one for Dexter.

**A/N****: Sorry, another cliff hanger, guys. So, who do you think is going to make it out of this little exchange and who isn't? Guesses anyone? :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N****: Howdy, y'all, so happy to have you back for this chapter. **

**This chapter belongs to Deb, because I thought it was time to have her POV put across. I hope you'll enjoy it and really hope it all makes sense. Thanks, as always, for reading...**

**Chapter FIVE**

"The world is full of massive things in motion. Little creatures get hurt."  
_Robert Fanney_

_The War of Mists_

"Half an hour."

Debra watched Yates end the phone call with Dexter, a self-satisfied look on his face. She was resting awkwardly against one of the shelves Yates had lining his van from where he'd just shoved her. A rope was skilfully tied around her body many times, making attempts at movement all but futile. A final piece of rope ran between her neck and ankles, short enough to make even straightening up an impossibility as well. Debra cursed herself for letting this happen to her. She should have noticed the man standing in the car park and paid him more attention. However, her thoughts had been consumed with only one man that morning, as she'd quietly let herself out of that same man's apartment.

_Dexter. _

Debra had opened her eyes this morning to see Dexter's face right there before her. What had happened between them had come back to her in a rush, along with all the confusing emotions those memories brought with them. She'd gone to his house in the middle of the night, unable to sleep until they'd made some kind of peace between them. Finding out that Harry had killed himself because he'd been unable to face what he'd created in Dexter had put Debra at a crossroads. She understood her father's struggles. By accepting Dexter as he was, did that mean you had to reject a part of yourself and was that part vital to your existence? For Harry it obviously had been, unable to go on, unable to reconcile who he saw himself as a person and the Dexter he'd helped create. Debra was faced with the same question now that she knew what her brother was capable of. Was loving Dexter and being in his life going to cost everything she knew about herself?

The truth was, driving over to Dexter's, she didn't even know the answer to that question. It was only when she'd walked into his bedroom and watched him sleeping for a few minutes that it truly hit home to her. A life without Dexter in it was unthinkable. Right or wrong, Debra realised she defined a huge part of herself through Dexter. He was her validation, her safe place when she'd fucked up her life, like she always did. Could there even be a Debra without a Dexter? Maybe, but not one she'd recognise or want to know. Debra knew she was choosing a life time of compromise and renegotiations of who she was and what she was capable of but it was her choice. It felt good to have control over something when everything had been so out of control in her life for so long. When they'd talked, a peace seemed to settle over what had become their tumultuous relationship. Debra could see in Dexter's face how happy he was to know that she wasn't going to opt out of his life. It felt so right to be needed by him, in fact, everything had felt perfect in that moment.

But then Dexter had kissed her.

It was the last thing Debra had expected, but that was Dexter these days, seemingly always unexpected. Her brother had always been the one rock steady thing in her life, the person who never changed, never gave way to huge emotions. She'd clung to that rock her entire life, accepting she was the one who seemed to be in an ever changing state of flux. But now her rock had revealed himself to have this completely other side to him. Now Dexter was part rock, part blazing inferno. Debra found herself caught between clinging to that rock for security and having to protect herself from that raw heat which was the other side to his nature. She felt like the kid trying to work out when a stove top was safe to touch and when it wasn't, constantly burning herself in those attempts.

When Dexter had kissed her again, a part of Debra had been screaming to stop but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She'd needed the closeness he'd been offering, needed to feel safe and loved so Debra had let it happen. A dark fantasy fulfilled. The trouble was with a fantasy, you never had to deal with an aftermath. You simply stopped when you got what you needed from it but real life was far more relentless than that. When Debra had woken up, naked, in her brother's bed, she'd just needed to put some distance between them. She had no idea what Dexter was going to say to her or what she wanted to say to him. Debra didn't want to hear it was a mistake or that he was sorry or have to deal with awkward silences. The fire was scorching her flesh again and Debra just needed to find some space to breathe in, to work all of this out.

But before she could find that place to breathe, Yates had attacked her.

Debra's head still hurt from where he'd clubbed her from behind. When she'd collapsed, her head must have hit the concrete hard, because blood was dripping down from her forehead and she kept having to blink it out of her eyes. She'd come to, ropes cutting into her flesh and being jostled around in the back of some kind of workman's van with sticking plaster over her mouth. Debra had tried her best to find some kind of weapon from the floor or shelves in the van but it was no use. She could barely move with the way her ropes had been tied. It hadn't taken her long to work out who her captive was. The scar on the back of his head was a dead giveaway if nothing else. Debra knew what he'd done to those other women. After they'd stopped, God knows where, Yates had made a phone call and it was obviously to Dexter. Even though she'd just listened to him broker a supposed deal with Dexter about exchanging her for Vogel, she knew that Yates had no intention of honouring his side of the deal. There was no question in Debra's mind that he intended to kill her, Dexter and Vogel. And there would be no question in Dexter's mind either, which meant he'd be looking to kill Yates first.

For the first time, the thought of Dexter killing was a welcome one. Debra blinked as she realised that. When she'd first found out about Dexter's murderous double life, she'd begged him to go through official channels and let the law do its job. Since then she'd seen the law fail in protecting the innocent again and again. Dexter's way had a finality to it that was starting to wheedle its way into Debra's head. A part of her still believed in the law she had sworn to uphold as a cop but another part of her had to acknowledge that the law often failed. In this twisted world, was there actually some way two wrongs could make a right? Debra had rejected that possibility out of hand when she'd first learnt of Dexter's double life but now she wasn't so sure. Everything was so grey in her world now, shifting shadows of beliefs and relationships, Debra struggled to know who she was anymore and what she believed.

"Here's hoping your Dexter is a persuasive guy," observed Yates as he pocketed his cell phone.

"Fuck you." The muffled profanity came from behind the plaster which Yates had stuck back over her mouth when she'd tried to give Dexter the heads up over the phone.

Yates seemed to get the message anyway, his lips curling up in a cold smile. "That's some mouth you've got on you, Debbie."

The name Debbie was like nails on a chalkboard to her and on instinct she did her best to kick out at him but it was pointless as he easily avoided her in her trussed up state.

Yates was eyeing her speculatively, like he was weighing up his next move. "You and me, we've got some time to kill. I think we should get to know each other a little better." His eyes moved to the plaster over her mouth. "I'm gonna take that off. You can scream if you like, but no one is around for miles." Yates reached over and ripped the plaster off Debra's mouth in one painful movement. "So, this husband of yours, likes to play the hero, does he?"

He was fishing for information about Dexter, sizing up his opponent and Debra was having none of it. "Go fuck yourself!" she spat out at him. Debra wasn't even going to correct him on his wrong assumption about their relationship. Yates was going to get jack shit from her.

Yates' lips twisted in disgust. "You kiss your little boy goodnight with that mouth, Debbie?"

Debra's eyes flared. "You leave him the fuck out of this, you fucking sick shit! And don't fucking call me Debbie!"

Yates flinched at her yelling, cowering ever so slightly but then he was glaring at her. "Do you even know what he's up to? Do you know he's off sneaking around, sticking his nose into other people's business? All because another woman asked him to, he's put your whole family in danger. What kind of man does that? You ever find yourself asking yourself what kind of man you married, Debbie? What you're exposing your kid to?"

Debra's eyes narrowed menacingly. "You don't know a thing about us, you piece of shit. You're a fucking sick freak who murders women and gets off on it. You're nothing but a messed up prick who is too weak to ever be a real man!"

Yates lunged at her, grabbing Debbie's shoulders, fingers biting into her flesh. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" he screamed into her face. "You're always telling me I'm no good, that I'm stupid, but who's the stupid one now, Mom?! You're gonna die today!"

Debra's eyes went wide, heart pounding at the violence behind his words and the words themselves. "Did you just fucking call me Mom?" she asked in disbelief. _Fuck, this guy was so fucked up. _

Yates blinked rapidly, looking like he was coming back from somewhere far away. He shoved Debra roughly back against the side of the wall and recoiled from her. Yates was crouched down against the other side of the van wall, looking freaked out himself. "Your-your hair," he rasped, avoiding looking at Debra, "it's the same colour as hers. You two could be-could be-" Yates was back to staring at her now, a blankness coming over his face. "-sisters," he finished off, voice suddenly devoid of emotion.

Debra could see Yates mind had wandered off into a different place as he continued to stare at her blankly. Clearly the guy had mommy issues and Debra wasn't sure if looking like his mother was a good or bad thing. With her luck, it was probably going to be a bad thing. "Listen to me," said Debra urgently, "it's not too late. You can stop this before it goes any further. Just let me go, ring Dexter and tell him where I'll be and it'll be all over."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "This isn't going to be over, not until Vogel is dead," he said harshly.

"Why do you want her dead? What did she do to you?"

Yates twisted his neck around and jabbed an angry finger at the scar running along the back of his head. "The bitch told them to cut me open. That whore had me mutilated, all for her amusement." He turned to face Debra again. "But that's nothing to what I'm gonna do to her. She's gonna beg me to put her out of her misery. I'm gonna snap every bone in her body, one by one and then I'm gonna start taking strips of flesh off her." Yates gave a little giggle. "Hell, maybe I might even make her eat them. Teach her who's boss."

Debra saw the gleeful expression come over Yates' face at the thought and was repulsed by it. "You sick fuck," she said unevenly, her voice rising. "You fucking sick piece of fucking shit!"

Her yelling set Yates off again. At first he flinched back against the wall of the van but then he seemed to find his own anger. "Stop yelling at me!" he bellowed at her. Yates lunged for Debra, shoving her down on her back. She struggled against him as he grabbed for her feet but her movements were so limited there was nothing she could do when he took hold of her foot and ripped off one shoe.

"Is that how you talk to your boy?" he raged, hand going inside his coat and digging around. He withdrew a bottle opener. "Do you scream at him with your foul mouth until he runs and hides from you?"

"Let me the fuck go, you fucking bastard!" Debra screamed at him as she tried desperately to pull her foot from his tight grasp.

"Do you beat on him until he's screaming in pain and then beat on him some more?" yelled back Yates as he slipped the bottle opener over little toe. "Do you make him piss himself in fear?!" With that last question Yates gave a violent tug on the bottle opener, moving against the natural direction of the bone of Debra's little toe.

She cried out in agony as she felt the small bone snap. "Fuck you!" Debra wheezed when she caught her breath from the pain.

"Fuck me?" Yates threw back at her challengingly. He moved the bottle opener to her next toe along. "No, fuck you, Debbie!"

Another bone was mercilessly snapped, causing Debra to writhe around on the floor in anguish. "Stop!" she gasped. "Stop it!"

"You show me some goddamn respect, woman!" he bellowed at her. "I'm not afraid of you anymore, you hear me?!" Another toe was broken to underline his point, forcing another helpless scream from Debra's lips. "I'm not taking any more of your shit. I've got the power now, you hear what I'm saying, it's ME, MOM!" Yates' tirade was interrupted by the sound of a quiet little series of beeps. He blinked rapidly, the small noise seeming to break him out of his frenzy. Yates pulled out his phone and stared at the way its screen was flashing at him. "Half an hour," he mumbled to himself at the sound of the alarm, set to remind himself of the time. Yates sat back on his haunches and quickly dialled a phone number as Debra looked up at him fearfully. The barest of smiles touched his lips when the phone was answered and he listened to the person on the other line. "Good boy, hero," said Yates, his eyes cold as he glared down at the shaking Debra. "This is all going to be over soon."

Debra closed her eyes, body sagging against the floor as she heard the veiled threat in the other man's voice. She didn't want Dexter going up against this fucking lunatic. Debra fought to remain conscious as she heard Yates give Dexter his final destination, knowing this was going to end badly, but not knowing for whom. The thought of losing Dexter was actually more terrifying than the thought of dying herself. Her shaking got worse as Debra thought about burying her brother like she'd been forced to with her parents. A tear slipped, unbidden, from her closed eyes as the grief from just the thought of such a thing overwhelmed her. "Dex," she whispered brokenly, needing to hear his name to feel like there was any kind of hope left...

**A/N****: So, how was that for you all, not too full on, I hope? This is a Dexter story after all and I have got some more relatively heinous things planned as we go along... you'll just never know when they're coming (insert evil laugh here). Any thoughts or feelings about where you think this might all be heading and what you'd like to read are received with great interest. That's the fun thing about fanfiction, you get the opportunity to somewhat shape a story with your audience because you have that immediacy of reaction. I love that feeling of a collaborative affair and a lot of my stories have benefited from folks offering up what they'd like to see or explored. ;) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N****: Hello anyone who is still reading this story. I'm so sorry that this update has taken me so long. Work has exploded into craziness which leaves me with no left over brain power to be in any way creative. I've had a day off finally, so I've managed to get a chapter done. Hopefully the next one won't take so long, I do like to keep stories bumping along if I can. **

**Thanks for hanging in there with this, guys. I really appreciate it. :D **

**Chapter SIX**

"Тhere isnʹt much I wouldnʹt do for you. Тhe stupider, the better."  
~Richelle Mead

_Last Sacrifice_

Dexter turned off the engine of his car and took in Yates' work van parked at the end of a dilapidated looking dock. There was no sign of anyone around the area at all. It was just the four of them and that suited Dexter just fine. "You do everything I tell you, when I tell you," he instructed his passenger. "Don't hesitate and I'll get us all out of here alive."

Vogel gave him a sideways look. "Even Yates?"

Dexter kept staring ahead. "Wasn't killing Yates the point of you setting me on him in the first place?"

_No movement from the van. Is Yates using it as a decoy? _

Dexter scanned the surrounding area and didn't find anywhere else two people could be hidden away.

"I wanted to find out who was threatening me," she corrected him.

"And what?" scoffed Dexter. "Tell him to stop being a naughty boy? If you only wanted that then you would have involved the police. You needed a psychopath to handle a psychopath and what better than the one you helped create?"

"My goal has always been to help people like you and Yates," said Vogel unevenly.

Dexter scowled and then glared at her. "Yates and I are nothing alike," he growled. "I don't target innocent people."

"Because you had the opportunity to be shaped by myself and Harry, to develop your code," pointed out Vogel. "Yates didn't."

"Why are you trying to elicit compassion from a man you've diagnosed as being unable to have any real feelings?" asked Dexter coldly. "You wanted the man who was threatening you dead otherwise you wouldn't have involved me. All this is just you trying to absolve yourself of having any responsibility for Yates' fate. It doesn't change anything other than making yourself feel better." He looked back at the van. "Just do what I say and this will all be over soon." Dexter's lips twisted. "Unless your conscience demands I just hand you over to the guy. I guess we could do that, spare the life of your lost little soul. No harm, no foul. I get Deb back and we leave you to deal with the mess you helped create." He threw a challenging look over at Vogel. "Well?"

Vogel's chin came up and she answered his question calmly. "You won't allow Yates to live, Dexter, no matter what I say."

"And what makes you so sure of that?"

"Because he's gone after Debra," said Vogel simply. "You've appointed yourself her protector. It's a huge part of how you define yourself. You won't allow this threat to Debra to stand."

Dexter's hands tightened on the wheel of the car at Vogel's insight.

_She's right. Yates signed his own death warrant the moment he laid a finger on my sister._

"Just do as I say," he repeated dully. Dexter climbed out of the car, with Vogel following more slowly. He started to walk towards the van, conscious of Vogel on his right and keeping step a little ways behind him. When they reached the wooden slats of the dock, there was finally movement from the van.

The side door of the vehicle slid back and Yates stepped out. "That's far enough," he called out over the thirty foot distance.

Dexter's eyes scanned for Debra, completely rejecting the possibility that it might be too late, that Yates might have snapped and killed her already. If he allowed the thought to take root, Dexter knew he'd lose all control and there was no guarantee of anyone's safety anymore, least of all his own. "Where's Deb?" he asked, practice at handling volatile situations making his voice sound calm.

Yates reached back into the van and drew out a heavily bound Debra. She staggered down the short distance from the van to the ground, seeming to have difficulty standing. Her mouth was tapped up and her arms crossed in front of her chest, with ropes strapping them in place. Yates grabbed her arm, forcing Debra to walk forward with him. Dexter immediately saw how Debra was hobbling badly, favouring her left foot which was without a shoe.

_He's broken her toes, just like with the other women._

Dexter's entire body tensed, a black rage building inside of him at the thought of Debra being forced to endure such torture.

_For better or for worse, Deb is a part of me, our two souls inexorably tangled in one another. Yates hasn't only violated Deb with what he's done, but me as well. The only difference is, I can fight back. _

Debra's eyes were wide and full of fear as their gazes met. For a moment Dexter didn't know what to show her in his eyes to sooth her, the brother she loved or the killer who would protect her. In the end, maybe it was the same thing.

Yates stopped walking and inclined his head towards them. "You two, come here."

"AJ," said Vogel with quiet calm, "there is no need to do this. I know if we can just talk about what you're feeling-"

"The time for talking was done when you had them mutilate me," snapped Yates, not letting her finish. "Now it's me calling the shots, not you, you got it?"

"I understand how upset you must be feeling," said Vogel soothingly, "but the operation to remove your brain tumour was meant to help you, nothing else."

"But it didn't help," Yates reminded her bitterly, "and that's your fault."

"I came here to make an exchange," Dexter interrupted their exchange coldly. He wrapped his fingers around Vogel's arm and made her walk towards Yates. "Let's get this done already."

_I just need to get close to him. They all underestimate me in a fight. I can take him easily. Then Yates will be mine. _

The closer they got, the more of Debra's injuries were evident. Her bare arms were bruised and the tender flesh around her neck was red and looking like it was going to be bruising soon. Dexter could feel the vein in his forehead start to throb.

_I was going to kill Yates quickly but now I think he should know what it feels like to be helpless and in pain. _

Dexter blinked as a series of dark scenarios ran effortlessly through his brain. It wasn't his usual way. Deviation from his, so far, successful killing ritual would be ill-advised and invite a much greater risk of exposure. He knew he should care about that but right then, Dexter didn't. The need to avenge Debra was greater than any survival instinct he might possess.

The old wood sighed and creaked at their footsteps but seeing as Yates had managed to drive a van over the aging pier, Dexter wasn't worried about the old wood taking their weight. His attention remained focused on the couple directly ahead.

Yates pointed a finger at him. "You, stop. Dr. Vogel, you come the rest of the way."

Dexter had other ideas. "No. I get Deb first."

Yates snorted. "You deaf, hero? I told you, I'm calling the shots. You'll get wifey back when I've got what I want."

"I'll kill Vogel where she stands right now," said Dexter simply, his face an expressionless mask. He felt Vogel stiffen beside him. "And you'll never get your revenge." Dexter arched a cool eyebrow. "You know, that revenge you've been practising over and over in your head for years now. How's it going to feel to be cheated of that?"

Yates' eyes darted between Dexter and Vogel, fidgeting a little on the spot as he weighed up his options.

_He's like the junkie in fear of losing a much needed fix. Yates needs to go through with his plans to make Vogel pay. It's that need which is going to give me the upper hand. _

This close Dexter could see Yates was sweating, droplets lining his forehead as he twitched on the spot.

"At the same time," snapped Yates by way of compromise. He shoved Debra forward and she stumbled, making a little whimper of pain as she was forced into using her injured foot.

Dexter's jaw hardened but he let go of Vogel's arm and motioned she should keep on walking towards Yates. The older woman's expression was concerned, but undaunted as she slowly started to close the distance between herself and Yates. Debra was struggling to walk with how tightly she was bound and with the impedance of her injured foot, the small distance seemed to be a lot to ask of her.

_Look at me, Deb, look at me. _

Dexter willed Debra to lift her pained eyes up and look into his and see what he needed her to do. He needed Debra to create a distraction, give Dexter an excuse to get closer to his target. Their eyes met, a silent communication passed between them, possible from having known each other their whole lives. Vogel and Debra were passing by each other and Debra chose that moment to stumble so badly she fell. Vogel gasped in surprise and moved to help her.

"Leave her!" roared Yates, sensing something was wrong. He ran towards Vogel, drawing a gun from his the back of his pants but grabbing for the psychiatrist first.

Dexter was moving too, closing the distance between himself and Yates in lightening speed as the other man's focus was split between Vogel and Debra.

_He should have shot me first. Looks like I'm not the only one whose need for revenge is greater than any instinct for self-preservation. _

Dexter went for the gun in Yate's hand, grabbing at the other man's wrist and yanking it away. The gun skittered across the dock. Debra was still on the ground, trying to stand as Yates shoved Vogel roughly to the ground so he could have both hands to do battle with Dexter. Out of the corner of his eye, Dexter saw Vogel hit the ground hard and not move, possibly knocked out. He needed to get this fight away from the two helpless women. Dexter head-butted Yates, causing him to stagger backwards. The gun was knocked from Yates' grasp as Dexter pressed his advantage, knocking the man to the ground with one well-aimed punch. Yate's gave a grunt of pain and scrambled to get away from Dexter, trying to put some distance between them so he could stand up. All of Dexter's attention was on Yates now, as the other man went for a hidden knife in his boot.

Yates drew out the knife, jabbing it at Dexter as he ran the back of his hand over his bloody mouth. "You're a dead man!" he hissed and then lunged at Dexter with the knife.

Dexter skilfully side-stepped him, letting Yates' own weight work against him as Yates stumbled to his knees again, unbalanced by the force of his own attack. Yates swung the knife wildly around in front of him as he tried to scramble to his feet, not letting Dexter get close. Dexter took a step back from the flailing man, making sure he was out of the way of that knife. As he did, he heard a loud cracking noise and then the piece of rotten wood he'd just stood on gave way completely. Suddenly Dexter's right leg was falling through the broken wood of the dock. Because he'd been stepping backwards, Dexter's weight was off-balance and all of his weight went down on that one leg. A searing pain shot up his leg as splintered wood tore at his shin. Dexter was forced down onto his left knee as his right leg was caught up to his thigh in a rotting, wooden prison.

Yates' eye lit up at seeing Dexter's predicament. He hauled himself to his feet, eyes only for Dexter as the other man struggled to get free. Dexter strained to try and work his leg lose, ignoring the jabbing pain from snapped wood. It was all happening in a split second. Yates was almost on top of him, the knife raised above his head, ready to bring the death blow down on the helpless Dexter when suddenly there was a blur of colour and Yates was gone. Dexter started in surprise as he heard a loud splash from the edge of the dock. A still tied up Debra had charged at Yates and knocked the both of them off the dock and into the water.

"Deb!" yelled Dexter in horror, renewing his efforts with frantic urgency. She wouldn't be able to swim with being tied up like that and it wouldn't be like Yates would try to save her. Dexter looked over to where Vogel was still lying motionless on the ground, blood running from a cut up in her hairline. "Shit!" yelled Dexter in frustration. He gritted his teeth and gave one hard pull, ignoring the feeling of flesh tearing in his thigh. The leg came free and Dexter jumped to his feet. One side of his trouser's leg was torn and he could feel blood running down his leg but didn't give it a second thought. Dexter rushed over to the edge of the dock and hastily scanned the water. A few bubbles were breaking the surface but otherwise there was no sign of Debra or Yates.

"Dexter."

He looked back over his shoulder at the unsteady sound of his name and saw Vogel had regained consciousness. "Get the gun," he advised her urgently, conscious that Yates might resurface at any moment.

Vogel looked was a little dazed but then she was slowly attempting to stand up and head towards the gun lying on the dock between them. Dexter didn't wait any longer. He dove into the water, kicking as hard as he could to get down into the depths and follow that trail of bubbles. Down below him in the murky water he could see Debra's dark head thrashing about as she fought to try and kick her way to the surface. Such a thing was all but impossible with her partially bound legs but as Dexter swam closer he could see there was another problem. Yates was still holding onto Debra. Dexter reached them and tried to shove Yates away but then saw the other man's foot was caught up in Debra's ropes and was unable to get free. The man was panicking, clearly not as home in the water as Dexter. Yates was thrashing wildly, using up precious oxygen and taking Debra with him to the ocean bottom. Dexter immediately attempted to free Yates from Debra's ties. There would be no way he could drag the both of them to the surface, particularly with Yates panicking the way he was. Dexter's concerned gaze looked at Debra, just in time to see her eyes roll back in her head. His already wildly beating heart doubled its tempo as Dexter realised time had all but run out for his sister. He fought to free her from this certain death, fingers numb with panic making the task even harder as precious oxygen was used up from his own lungs...


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N****: Okay, so this chapter didn't take as long to do as the last, so, yay for that! LOL **

**Thank you to all the kind and wonderful people encouraging me with this fic with your reviews and followings. It's a very full on world with a lot to delve into, so it's nice to know that you're in the ball park of entertaining folks. :D **

**This chapter and the next ones are kind of important ones for this fic, so I hope they end up making sense to you all. Lots of introspection after all that drama. **

**Hope you enjoy and thank you as always for reading... **

**Chapter SEVEN**

"Sometimes, pain is all that lets you know you're alive."  
_Robert Jordan_

_Crossroads of Twilight_

_An eight year old Debra crawled into the small space afforded between some neatly clipped hedges and tucked her knees up to her chin. She blinked back tears of rage and self-pity as her wet swimming costume continued to dry in the warm Miami sun. She hated them all, Debra told herself fiercely and she didn't need them. She didn't even know why her parents had made her come to the stupid birthday party in the first place. Todd was a jerk and just because his parents were friends with hers that didn't mean Debra had to like him. He was always calling her names and being mean to her. She could still hear them all laughing in the pool, not even caring she was gone. _

_Hot tears of outrage stung Debra's eyes as she buried her face in her knees at the memory of her beloved father yelling at her in front of everyone at the party for punching Todd in his smirking face. Debra had tried to explain what had happened and why the game of Marco Polo all of the kids had been playing in the pool had gotten ugly but he wouldn't listen. Embarrassed and upset Debra had just run away, not wanting to be around anyone ever again. Todd's parents house was on a huge block of land, all carefully landscaped and maintained and Debra had just run and lost herself in one of the many rows of hedges. She sat there, sniffling into her knees and wishing a giant meteorite would crash down on the entire party. That would show them. _

"_Deb?" _

_Debra lifted her head at the sound of her brother's voice. She blinked back tears as she peered through a break in the shrubbery to see Dexter's bare feet as he wandered around, looking for her. Not ready to give up on feeling sorry for herself, Debra didn't respond. She watched Dexter's feet as they walked around. _

"_Come on, Deb," he cajoled her, "don't hide. You know I hate it when you hide from me." _

_Dexter hadn't been there when Todd had swum up behind Debra in the pool as they'd played Marco Polo and undone her bikini top when her eyes had been closed. Everyone had laughed when he'd taken her bikini top and even though there had been nothing to show on her eight year old's body, the humiliation had been too much for Debra. She'd punched Todd right in the face to get her top back. Only her dad hadn't seen any of that, just heard Todd's side of the story when he came crying to his parents that Debra had hit him. She wasn't ready to forgive any of them yet, that jerk Todd, her Dad or even Dexter for not being there to protect her like he always did. She stayed perfectly still, watching Dexter look for her. _

"_You know I'm not going to give up," reasoned her brother, "so you may as well." _

_Debra bit her bottom lip, suddenly feeling safe in knowing that was true. No matter how well or often she hid from the world when things went badly, it was always Dexter who sought her out and brought her back home. _

"_Marco," he called out, reverting to the game she'd only just been playing. _

_Despite herself, Debra smiled. "Polo," she called back and then immediately scurried away from her hiding place and finding another. She could hear Dexter's voice was closer this time. _

"_Marco." _

"_Polo," Debra responded and then quickly moved once more, being careful to keep out of Dexter's sight. She knew Dexter would patiently play this game with her for however long it took for Debra to feel like she was ready to go back and face the others. It made her feel safe and like she wasn't alone anymore. No matter how crappy her life got, Debra knew her big brother was always going to be there for her, come what may. _

**oooOOOOooo**

Small pinpoints of light exploded behind Debra's eyes as a sudden roaring in her ears had her snapping her eyes open. A warm breath filled her lungs but it wasn't her own. She felt soft lips firmly pressed against her own, barely having time to register their owner before she was coughing up salty water and spitting it up over the both of them.

"Onto her side, Dexter, quickly."

Debra heard Vogel's voice give the order and then strong but gentle hands were rolling her onto her side to cough up the last of the saltwater in her stomach.

Those same hands stroked her head reassuringly. "It's okay, Deb, you're okay. I've got you." Dexter's voice attempted to be soothing but she could still hear the anxiety there.

Debra's head was spinning as she tried to work out what was happening to her. The events of that day groggily made it back into her consciousness as she remembered being taken by Yates and what he'd done to her. With those memories came the image of Dexter caught in the broken slats of the dock. Debra remembered the panic she'd felt in seeing her brother so vulnerable as Yates had closed in on him with that knife. She hadn't thought, she'd just reacted, throwing her whole body at Yates to protect Dexter. Debra hadn't expected for them to fall into the water and then for Yates to get tangled in her ropes. Ropes she could feel being cut from her body by a concerned Vogel.

"Debra, just take slow, long breaths," she cautioned the younger woman over Debra's rasping grabs for oxygen.

Easy for her to say, Vogel hadn't just swallowed half a fucking ocean. Debra sicked up another mouthful of that ocean as she felt Dexter wrap his arms around her and hold onto her shaking body. The image of Dexter's face under the water was the last thing Debra remembered before her world had gone black. He'd saved her. Somehow her brother had found and saved her once again. Debra went limp in Dexter's arms, overcome with all that had happened to her.

"We need to get her to a hospital," said Dexter urgently.

"I'll take Debra to hospital," Debra heard Vogel offer. "You need to find Yates."

"He's long gone."

Debra could hear the frustration in Dexter's voice. Yates must have made his escape while Dexter was saving her life. Debra immediately felt guilty.

"Then you need to clean up this scene," insisted Vogel. "Yate's van, it can't stay here."

Vogel was right. "Go," rasped Debra, forcing out the single word through numb lips.

"Deb." The way Dexter said her name, she knew he was torn.

"I'm okay," she whispered. "You-you need to do as Vogel s-says."

"I'll take care of her, Dexter," said Vogel reassuringly. "I promise."

Debra attempted to sit up and show her brother she was indeed alright. It was a harder than expected action to complete and in the end Dexter had to help her. She leant into the strength he offered as she managed to sit up. "I'm alright," she said on reflex, not really knowing if it was true. Debra's gaze focused on Dexter's face, lined with concern for her, water still dripping from his wet hair. Her gaze drifted down his soaking clothes which were clinging to his body and her attention was immediately caught by the ugly red stain spreading over one trouser leg. "You're hurt," she whispered in distress.

"It's nothing," Dexter dismissed easily. "Just a scratch. It's you who needs a hospital." Without waiting for further debate on the subject, Dexter moved to pick Debra up. He stood up, Debra in his arms and marched them purposefully towards his car, with Vogel quickly following. Dexter laid Debra down carefully on the backseat as Vogel climbed into the driver's seat. Despite herself, Debra slumped down on the backseat, feeling ridiculously weak as Dexter now spoke with Vogel.

"Are you alright to drive?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? You were knocked out." His voice hardened. "I don't need you driving yourself and Deb into some kind of four lane pile up."

"I'm perfectly alright, Dexter. If I wasn't, I'd say so. I have no interest in being the martyred hero in this little tale."

There was a long pause, as though Dexter was weighing up Vogel's words but then he must have decided she was alright to drive. "I need to change my clothes," he said abruptly. "Pop the trunk. And there is a first aid kit in the glove compartment. Pass it out to me so I can stop my leg from bleeding."

Debra lay on the backseat, struggling to keep her eyes open as Dexter swiftly changed his wet, torn and bloodied clothes for something dry. She didn't ask why he had spare clothes in the car, they all knew the answer to that. Debra was losing the concept of time when Dexter appeared in the doorway again. "I'm going to meet up with you both at the hospital, okay?" he quizzed her. "I'm going to take care of everything. You're safe now, Deb."

Debra hoped she managed a smile but couldn't be sure because her face was still numb. "Okay," she mumbled.

Dexter threw the blanket he had over his arm over her body and tucked Debra in. "I'll see you soon," he promised her.

Debra nodded, eyes drooping a little in exhaustion. Dexter was closing the car door then and Debra could hear him have a quick conversation with Vogel, but their voices were too low for her to hear. The next thing she knew, the car engine was being turned over and they were moving. They drove in silence for about ten minutes and then Debra forced herself to sit up.

Vogel's concerned gaze met hers in the rear view mirror. "Just lie down, Debra. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"I'm not going to any fucking hospital," she muttered. The thought of answering all of those questions about how and why she was the state she was in was too much for Debra. "Take me home."

Vogel's tone had that tinge of motherly patronisation to it. "Now, Debra, you've been through a terrible ordeal and-"

"And I fucking want to go home!" Debra snapped, her outburst sapping most of her strength. "You fucking take me home now or I'll fucking get out and walk!" She wasn't sure how she'd manage such a feat given the way she felt, but Debra knew she'd try. Vogel's eyes were on her again in the rear vision mirror. Debra glared back at her, letting the older woman know she wasn't bluffing.

"I'll need directions," said Vogel quietly.

Debra looked out the window to get her bearings. "Turn left at the next lights and keep going straight."

Vogel dutifully complied and within fifteen minutes Debra was home again. She didn't wait for Vogel to help her out of the car. She slipped off the backseat on unsteady legs and made her way to her front door. Vogel was by her side, hand hovering around her lower back in case Debra needed to support. They stood at her front door.

"Dex has a key to my house on his key ring," Debra informed her dully.

Vogel quickly found the key and opened the door for her. Debra staggered in and started to limp towards the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower," she said abruptly. "There is a first aid kit in the kitchen for your head." Without looking back, Debra made a beeline for her bathroom. She gingerly stripped her clothes off, body making every bruise and ache painfully obvious to her but Debra ignored them, desperate for that clean, hot water to wash away the horrors of the day. She stepped under the stream of water, not caring she'd made it too hot. Slumping against the cool tiles, a choked cry escaped her lips and Debra quickly put a hand over her mouth so Vogel wouldn't hear the sign of weakness. It was too much though, as the trauma of the day overwhelmed Debra. The fear she'd felt being at Yate's psychopathic mercy, the feeling of what felt like the last breath leaving her body, it all pressed in on Debra and she slid down the wall, the sobs overtaking her bruised body. She couldn't stop the sound of her crying bouncing off the walls as her body became wracked with painful sobs.

"Debra?"

Debra could barely hear Vogel's concerned voice over the sound of her own crying but then the other woman was letting herself into the bathroom.

Her face softened with compassion at seeing the crumpled Debra curled up on the shower foor. "Oh Debra," she said softly. Vogel walked over and knelt by the shower cubicle, not caring she was getting wet as she pulled Debra into a warm embrace. At first Debra resisted but it had been so long since she'd known anything remotely like a mother's touch that she didn't last long. Debra slumped into Vogel's arms and cried her heart out for every shitty thing which had happened to her in the last year, not sure she'd be able to stop.

**oooOOOOooo**

Debra stepped out of her bedroom to find Vogel sitting on a chair and looking out the window to the ocean off in the distance. The woman looked as neat as always, only her damp hair hinting at the break down in the shower. Debra grimaced as she lifted an arm to attempt to towel dry her own still dripping hair. "Sorry about getting you all wet," she said stiffly, embarrassed by the flood of emotion she'd shown Vogel.

Vogel turned and smiled at her pleasantly. "My blouse is silk. Silk dries quickly in this part of the world. There was no harm done and I think it was good for you."

Debra limped to the sofa and took a painful seat. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean for you to see any of that." She avoided looking at Vogel. "I don't like people seeing me cry."

"Crying doesn't mean weakness, Debra," said Vogel gently.

"That fuck it doesn't," retorted Debra.

"It's a way of acknowledging our feelings and letting them leave our body, rather than leaving them to pent up and fester."

Debra gave a humourless laugh. "Fester, yeah, that sounds about right." She stared unseeingly out of the same window Vogel had just been looking out. "I think I died," Debra shared abruptly. She forced her attention back on the other woman. "I think, under the water, I died for a bit. I was dead." The words sounded alien to Debra's ears.

"And how does that thought make you feel?"

"Relieved," said Debra without thinking.

"You think of death as a source of relief?"

Debra grimaced. "It has to be easier than living, right?" She frowned over at Vogel. "Don't worry, I'm not suicidal. It's not in me to take the easy way out." Debra snorted in self-derision. "I never do anything the easy way."

"Debra, it's alright to feel like everything that has happened is too much for you to deal with. You don't have to pretend otherwise. The thing is, that is where the talking should start, not stop. That's the difference between falling into a dark hole where death feels like the only answer and getting better."

"You think I'm sick?"

"I think you're unhappy," replied Vogel gently.

Debra moved restlessly in her seat, feeling the way her broken toes were throbbing. She needed to get the conversation off her. It already felt like Vogel had seen too much when it came to what was going on inside of her head. "What's taking Dexter so long? Shouldn't he be back by now?"

"Dexter's nature is to be careful," said Vogel reasonably. "He'll take as long as is necessary to do the job properly."

"Yeah," said Debra sarcastically, "that's my brother, always careful when breaking the law and killing people."

"I meant you, Debra," Vogel countered. "Dexter's nature is to be careful with all things involving you."

Debra stared at her. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Dexter is meticulously protective of you, Debra, as a person, of your relationship with one another."

"And what, you're saying that isn't normal?" asked Debra tightly.

"No, I'm not saying that, only that everything about you two seems to have a heightened sense to it." Vogel pursed her lips. "You and Dexter..." she trailed off, looking off into space, seemingly lost in thought.

Debra stiffened. "Dexter and me what?" she asked sharply, suddenly worried there was some way the other woman could see what the two of them had done in the early hours of this morning. If she found out Vogel no doubt would order the two of them to never see each other again. The thought panicked Debra. As messed up as she was when it came to Dexter, the one thing she knew was that she couldn't live without him and had given up even trying.

Vogel returned her attention to Debra and looked thoughtful. "I thought I understood who Dexter was, his potential. Psychopaths follow a very similar trajectory with how they progress. But Dexter-" She shook her head. "He's surprised me and I'm not an easy woman to surprise. I've spent my life defining the parameters of people like Dexter only to find the one who started me on this path is the one who is the exception to the very rules I've used to define him."

Debra blinked. "Am I supposed to understand what the fuck you just said?"

Vogel half-smiled. "Do you know the story of the Velveteen Rabbit, Debra?"

Debra wrinkled her nose. "No."

"It's a child's book which tells the story of a stuffed velveteen rabbit who was given as a gift to a young boy but was rejected for toys of superior quality."

"Okay," said Debra slowly. "Is this meant to be making any sense?"

"The oldest toy in the nursery told the rabbit that there was a chance of becoming real if a toy is extremely adored and loved," Vogel explained. "The Velveteen Rabbit knew there was little chance of something like that happening to him but then the boy lost his favourite toy one day and the Velveteen Rabbit was able to be a soothing substitute. The little stuffed rabbit became a beloved toy of the boy and was ultimately transformed into a living rabbit." Vogel sat back in her chair and regarded Debra with intense interest. "The way you love Dexter, Debra, the way Harrison does, the way Harry and Rita did... you've all transformed him into something far more than his original design intended." She gave a little smile. "It's utterly fascinating."

Debra scowled, suddenly feeling like she and Dexter were exhibits in some kind of freak show and Vogel the curious crowd who'd paid money to see the abominations of nature. It wasn't a great feeling and Debra suddenly understood how Dexter must have felt his entire life. To be apart from the rest of the world and feeling like you were living in some kind of cage. Debra closed her eyes as fresh exhaustion overcame her at the depressing thought. She just wanted to know Dexter was alright and safe. Debra just wanted him her brother with her and somehow that was going to make everything alright.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N****: Hello once again, gentle reader. **

**Thanks so much for tuning in for the next chapter. :D Unfortunately we don't have the Debster convo I promised, as this one got away from me. I hope you'll still find it worthwhile to read though. I realised I was missing a crucial element in the story so far, so I had to add it, for authenticity's sake. ;) **

**The next chapter is mostly written, so hopefully it won't be too far away. I have a day off tomorrow, so fingers crossed the muse is on board with making hay while the sun shines. **

**This chapter is all about laying the ground work for future chapters. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy... **

**Chapter EIGHT**

"Anger is useful only to a certain point.

After that, it becomes rage, and rage will make you careless."  
~Lauren Oliver~

_Pandemonium_

Dexter watched Yate's van become enveloped in leaping flames and thick black smoke. He hadn't bothered with stripping the insides. The police were already looking for Yates. If they found his destroyed van, they'd just figure the guy had made a run for it. Which he had. Dexter's jaw hardened as frustration coursed through his body at Yates getting away from him. In that moment it had come down to a choice between saving Debra or killing Yates. Only it hadn't been a choice.

"Yates is unpredictable and that makes for a dangerous enemy."

Dexter didn't turn his head and acknowledge the presence of Harry. "I know."

"You and Debra and Harrison won't be safe until he's dealt with."

Dexter's turned on his heel and walked away from the flaming van. "Don't you think I know that?" he said tightly. "What was I meant to do, let Deb die?"

The apparition of his father fell into step with Dexter as they walked away from the burning vehicle. "Of course not."

"I had a choice," said Dexter shortly. "Life or death and for once I chose life. Debra's life."

"And it was the right thing to do," agreed Harry evenly. "But that still leaves you with the Yate's problem."

"I'll deal with it."

"How?"

"I'll find him," said Dexter coolly as they made their way back to the main highway, a twenty minute walk from the secluded spot he'd chosen to destroy the van in. "I always find them."

"I have a bad feeling about this one, Dexter," said Harry seriously.

"Yates is a nothing, a nobody," dismissed Dexter. "He's an amateur."

"Amateurs don't get away with what he did for as long as he did," countered Harry. "Debra can't take much more of this. Your life is impacting on her too much, Dexter. That's why I told you she could never find out who you really were."

"You said it was because she'd leave me, that Deb would turn her back on me," said Dexter in annoyance, "but she didn't. Deb's still here, still in my life."

"But at what cost?" asked Harry unhappily.

"I'll protect her," said a grim Dexter. "I'll always protect Deb."

"But who is going to protect her from you?" asked a relentless Harry.

Dexter scowled fiercely. "Deb is safe with me. I'd never hurt her."

"Then what was this morning about?"

Dexter briefly stopped walking, refusing to look at Harry. "I don't want to talk about it." He started walking again.

Harry kept up. "Well, son, you're going to have to talk about it, if not to me, then certainly to Debra."

"I know," Dexter ground out.

"You know Debra is in love with you, you know how vulnerable she is when it comes to you," continued on Harry. "And yet you still let the sex happen."

"It wasn't premeditated," said Dexter in frustration. "It just happened."

"You're a grown man, Dexter," said Harry, not willing to let him get away with that. "Things don't just happen. You had the power to stop it at any time, but you didn't. What are you going to tell Debra when she asks why?"

A muscle ticked in Dexter's jaw. "I don't know, okay?" he snapped.

_I'm shouting at Harry but it's really me I want to yell at. I'm so scared that I'm going to lose Deb over what I've done. When I pulled her from that water today and she wasn't breathing it was terrifying. I was suddenly in a world without her in it and I'd never felt so alone. I saved her but is it only to lose her again, this time because of my own actions? _

Dexter pulled out his cell phone, looking for some kind of buffer between Harry and this conversation. He hastily dialled Vogel's number.

"Hello?"

"It's me," said Dexter quickly, picking up his pace. "What hospital did you take Deb to? I'm on my way now."

"We didn't go to the hospital. We're at her apartment."

Dexter stopped walking. "What?" he bit out. "Why not? I told you to go to the hospital. Deb needs a hospital."

"Debra was extremely adamant that she didn't want to go to a hospital."

Dexter's face darkened. "She nearly died," he said fiercely, the frustrations of the day overtaking him. "I don't give a crap what Deb said, she needs to see a doctor."

"Debra has already spent the better part of the day being forced to do things against her will," pointed out Vogel with that relentless calm of hers. "I didn't feel doing the same to her would be in anyway beneficial."

Dexter looked up at the sky in frustration.

_Vogel's always got all the angles covered. She's got an answer for everything. I hate that about her. _

"Put her on," he ordered Vogel tersely.

"She's just finishing up in the shower," said Vogel mildly. "How far away are you?"

Dexter did a quick calculation. "About twenty minutes. I just need to catch a cab."

"We'll see you then. I'll let Debra know you're on your way."

Dexter looked away, suddenly nervous. "Is she-how is she?" he asked hesitantly.

"Traumatised," said Vogel simply.

Dexter's stomach turned over on itself, even though he hadn't expected anything else. "Has Deb said anything? About Yates and what-ah-" He trailed off, bracing himself for the answer. Dexter's knuckles whitened as his grip on the phone became death-like.

_If Yates has raped Deb..._

A haze of red filled Dexter's vision as the words formed in his head. The thought was beyond comprehension and he could feel a rage bubbling up inside that he'd never known before. For the first time Dexter was afraid of the darkness inside of him. The thought of any man hurting Debra like that was almost too much. Dexter could feel himself shutting down as a new blackness filled him. His killing the past had always been in line with the code Harry had instilled in him. Sometimes Dexter even let himself feel like he was upholding a lofty code of honour as he ended the life of each killer on his table. But if Yates had raped Debra, there could be no pretence of anything other than wanting to brutalise the man who'd hurt his sister.

"Debra hasn't spoken of her ordeal. I think it's too soon. She's still trying to process the events of today."

Dexter grimaced, knowing not all those events were down to Yates. He'd had his own hand in traumatising Deb today.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," said Dexter dully before hanging up. He started walking again.

"Dexter, don't," Harry cautioned as he hurried to keep up with the striding Dexter.

"Don't what?" asked Dexter coldly.

"You've survived this long with your killing because you've always managed a level of detachment which afforded you a clear head," said Harry urgently. "I always taught you to take your time, to veto people, to be measured in your approach."

Dexter didn't answer, just kept staring ahead as he quickened his walk to get back to the highway, to get back to Debra.

Harry moved in front of him and held up a hand, forcing Dexter to stop. Dexter glared at the other man. "What?"

"You're losing control when it comes to Yates," said Harry, face lined with worry.

"No, I'm not," returned Dexter coolly.

"And if you find out the man raped Debra, what then?" Harry pushed him.

Dexter couldn't stop his hands from curling into telltale fists, even as he kept his face carefully neutral. "Yates is going to die." He lifted a shoulder, feigning indifference. "His threat to our family can't stand."

"Dexter," said Harry seriously, "Debra needs your humanity, not your-"

"Monstrosity," Dexter filled in coldly. "I disagree. If I hadn't been following your caution-based code in the first place Yates would already be dead. Nothing would have happened to Deb."

"You're questioning the code now?" asked Harry in disbelief. "It's gotten you this far, Dexter. It's protected you. You can't abandon it now, not when you need it the most. Don't let Yates take your control from you. It's what is ultimately going to protect you and your sister, not your rage."

Dexter's eyes narrowed as he looked at the vision of his father, a new realisation coming to him. "You're afraid of me, of what I might do, even after all of your training."

Harry's expression was stern. "Dexter, I taught you to rein in your compulsions, channel them. If you let this need for revenge take a hold of you, I'm afraid of what you will become."

"I'm already a serial killer," said Dexter flatly. "I'm not how much more debased I can get by society's standard."

"You could become Yates," said Harry quietly.

Dexter scowled. "I'll never be like Yates."

"He's a wounded animal, lashing out at everything around him, even those who were trying to help him, people like Vogel. It's what happens when you let that rage consume you."

Dexter took a step closer to Harry, shoving his face into the older man's. "I will do what I have to do to protect my family," he ground out menacingly. "Just like you taught me."

Harry wasn't to be put off. "If you turn this situation with Yates into a vendetta rather than necessary damage control then you're making it about you, not about our family."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," snarled Dexter.

"Yates made you feel helpless when it came to Debra today and you're contemplating giving in to the need to punish him because you've felt helpless when it comes to your sister for a long time now. Yates is just a handy scapegoat."

Dexter drew back in horror. "You saw what that animal did to her," voice rising in outrage. "You know what he might have done to Deb." His voice cracked a little over that last part. "He deserves everything that is coming his way!"

"You're not listening to what I'm saying, Dex," said Harry in frustration. "Control your feelings about Yates. Debra needs her brother. You have to clear the air between the two of you, make things right. Killing Yates isn't going to do that for you."

_But it would be so much simpler. If I could serve Yates' head on a platter to Deb, then she'd know I'd do anything for her and things could go back to how they were. Killing Yates would be a way of saying all the things to her that I can't find the words for. _

Even as he thought those words, Dexter knew Harry was right. It wouldn't be enough but it soothed his straight line problem solving compunction to think it might.

_I was made for a black and white world but my life is nothing but endless shades of grey now. When did that happen? When did I lose that clarity I used to rely on so completely? _

Dexter suspected he knew the answer to his own question. It was when Debra had caught him in the act of killing Travis Marshall. That was when the fabric of his world had started to truly unravel and when Dexter had started to realise how much he needed Debra's presence in his life. The way his sister loved him was the filter he saw himself through which had made all the justifications Dexter had made about what he did make sense. Take that away and suddenly his whole life was blurred, lines running into each other in a way which drove him quietly crazy.

Dexter's shoulders sagged in defeat. "And how am I meant to do that?" he asked hopelessly. "What can I say to her about everything that has happened between us?"

"Debra came to you last night because she wanted to be in your life," reasoned Harry. "You don't know that has changed."

"Everything has changed," said Dexter in despair.

"And whose fault is that?"

Dexter's jaw hardened, not wanting to answer that question. It was a rhetorical one anyway.

Harry wasn't done yet. "Have you wondered why, when you proclaimed to want everything to go back to how they were between you and Debra, you then promptly made sure they never could?"

Dexter looked away abruptly. "No," he said tersely. He looked back at Harry, a challenge in his eyes. "But I'm guessing you do."

"It's not my question to answer, Dex," said Harry quietly. "All I know is that you're changing, evolving but I'm not sure into what. I helped shaped your psychological development with the code but now you're facing down an emotional one and-" He gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "And now, it's down to you to decide what to do with all of these feelings."

"I don't have the first idea about emotions and feelings," said Dexter in aggravation.

"You're going to have to learn, Dexter, and sooner rather than later. There is too much at stake for you not to."

_I feel like Harry just handed me a loaded gun with a hair trigger and set me down in the middle of a tornado. No matter how hard I try not to, I'm going to end up hurting people. _

Dexter ran his hand through his hair and then rubbed his face tiredly. His leg ached, his head was throbbing. He needed to see Debra, even as that need was tempered with fear about what she'd tell him about her ordeal and more specifically, what his reaction might be. Dexter started walking again, staring straight ahead numbly as the noise of the freeway started to be make itself known.

"What are you going to tell Debra?" asked Harry from behind him, the other man not following him this time.

"I don't know," said Dexter, his tone all but lifeless, overwhelmed by the emotional toll of the day. "it'll come to me."

"That's what you said to Vogel earlier today about a plan to save Debra," observed Harry. "If you recall, that didn't go so well."

Dexter couldn't take much more of this introspection. "I want to be alone now," he said, tone unflinching as he refused to turn back around and look at Harry.

"Careful what you wish for, son," Harry called out after him which didn't help with Dexter's mood at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N****: Thank you all to have been commenting on this fic. I love reading your take on Dexter and Deb's relationship and how thoughtful you all are about their complex relationship. It's really intriguing to me to read all the different POV's. :D **

**I'm glad people seemed to like the Harry chapter. I thought it was an important one with going into this chapter. Now, the reunion I've planned between Dex and Deb I've actually split into two chapters because there was so much there and I thought you all might get a little mentally tapped out reading it all at once. Again, I'm poking and prodding at the relationship, viewing it from all sides and perspectives. It's a lot of fun because it's a lot like an onion – lots of layers and makes you cry a bit. LOL **

**Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and the next one shouldn't be far away...**

**Chapter NINE**

"After all, what is happiness?

Love, they tell me.

But love doesn't bring and never has brought happiness.

On the contrary, it's a constant state of anxiety,

a battlefield; it's sleepless nights,

asking ourselves all the time if we're doing the right thing.

Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony."  
_Paulo Coelho_

_~The Witch Of Portobello_

Dexter hurried up to Debra's apartment, taking a moment to stop at her door and draw in an uneven breath. He'd hailed a cab to three blocks away from her apartment and half-walked, half-jogged the rest of the way. Harry's words were still ringing in his ears and even though Dexter knew it was next to impossible, he made sure to throw off Yates if he'd somehow been managing to follow him.

_I'm not leading that psychopath to her front door, not again. _

Dexter rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands on his trouser legs, trying to calm his anxieties about what revelations might be waiting for him behind that door. He raised a hand and gave a quick knock on the door. "Deb," he called out, "it's me." The sound of soft footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, and then it was being opened.

Vogel was standing in the doorway. She smiled to see him. "Hello, Dexter, it's good that you're here." Vogel stepped back to let him enter.

Dexter immediately spied a pale Debra sitting on her sofa, back against the arm rest and her feet up. His gaze swept over his sister, taking in the damp hair, the bruises on her arms and neck. An ice pack was wrapped around Debra's left foot. He hurried over to her, crouching down by the sofa. "Deb," he said unevenly, "how are you feeling?"

Debra's answer was characteristically to the point. "Like shit."

Dexter frowned as he cupped her face and stroked her too pale cheek with his thumb. "Please let me take you to a hospital," he pleaded with her.

"No."

Dexter leant closer, placing his face in front of Debra's and ignoring Vogel's presence completely. "Please, Deb," he begged. "You've got broken bones and you may have breathed in water. That kind of stuff can take hours to show up. If you've aspirated sea water into your lungs-"

"I haven't," said Debra tightly.

Dexter's jaw hardened. "You don't know that," he said unhappily. "What if-?"

"What if you shut the fuck up, Dexter," said Debra in agitation. She pulled her face away from his gentle touch and avoided looking at him. "I'm fine. I'm not going to some fucking hospital where I'm going to have to lie my fucking head off about what happened to me. I don't want questions and to be poked and prodded. I just want to be left alone."

Vogel's voice came from behind and above Dexter. "I don't think you should be alone right now, Debra," she said mildly. "I'm sure you're right and you are fine, but someone should stay with you tonight, just in case."

"I will," volunteered Dexter quickly, knowing he wasn't going to be sleeping anyway.

Debra shook her head. "No, you've got work and Harrison."

"I'll ring Angel and Jamie won't mind sleeping over."

"I mind," insisted Debra.

"I'll stay with you, Debra," offered Vogel easily.

Dexter looked back over his shoulder at Vogel, face lined with frustration. "No, Deb is my sister. I'll take care of this."

"I'm not a fucking problem to solve, Dex," said Debra sharply. "I don't need either one of you to fucking hold my hand. I'll just go to bed and sleep this off."

"And you'll feel ten times worse tomorrow," Vogel predicted.

"So, I'll take painkillers," Debra dismissed.

Dexter studied the determined set of Debra's slight shoulders, the way her lips were pressed together with stubborn resolve.

_Vogel is right. Short of knocking Deb out, she isn't going to see a doctor. _

"You drive me crazy," Dexter announced in frustration, wanting a professional to reassure him his sister was going to be alright. At least, physically.

"Welcome to the club," said Debra flatly. "Collect your name badge at the door and we meet every other Tuesday, BYO your own tequila, the limes are provided."

_That was funny. I want to smile but I'm still too scared for Deb. _

Dexter leaned back away from Debra and looked down at her ice-packed foot. "At least let me look at your foot." Without waiting for permission, Dexter took a seat at the other end of the sofa, carefully lifting up Debra's foot onto his lap. He gently removed the ice pack to reveal a very swollen and bruised series of toes. "We need to strap them together, try and give them some support."

"I'll get the first aid kit," offered Vogel. She left the room and returned seconds later, handing the little white box to Dexter. "I'm going to go out and get a few supplies. You have no food in the house, Debra. I'll stock you up for the next couple of days. Mobility is going to be a bit of an issue for you in that time." She touched Dexter's shoulder. "May I take your car?"

"Yes, sure," said Dexter, head bobbing up and down.

"I'll be back soon," she promised them both. Vogel walked out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

Dexter busied himself with strapping up Debra's broken toes, even as he steeled himself to broach a difficult subject. "Deb," he began hesitantly, focusing on carefully winding the tape around her toes, binding them up to offer some support to their brokenness. "I-I need to ask. Yates – what did he- I mean, did he-ah-?"

Debra interrupted his stumbling question with a blunt one of her own. "Do you want to know if he raped me?"

Dexter lifted his eyes to hers. "Yes," he said anxiously.

"Does it matter now?" she asked tightly.

"How can you ask that?" asked Dexter angrily. "Of course it matters."

"It's over and done with," Debra threw back at him. "What's done is done."

Dexter swallowed hard. "So-so he raped you?" he asked unevenly. Dexter could feel a cold blackness forming inside of him, a yawning abyss opening up directly in front of him and a growing need to fall into it.

"Jesus, Dex," said Debra abruptly, "no, the fucking lunatic didn't rape me. He knocked me around, tried to strangle me and broke my toes. Shit, he even called me Mom, but he didn't rape me. Does that make you feel better?"

_It did. The thought of Deb being violated that way makes me feel completely out of control. Knowing she was spared that particular horror is the one thing I can hold onto in this nightmare of a day._

The abyss closed over, sinking back into the depths of Dexter... for now.

"I'm sorry," he said painfully. "I'm sorry you had to endure all that and I wasn't there to stop it."

"Yeah, well, you were there when it counted in the end," said Debra shakily. "I thought I was a goner there for a while."

"You scared the crap out of me," said Dexter with heartfelt honesty. "I thought I'd lost you."

Debra gave a wry smile. "No such luck, huh?"

"Don't say that," said Dexter sharply. "I don't ever want to lose you, Deb."

Debra looked away before focusing her concentration on a broken fingernail, picking at it. "I told Vogel I thought I died. There was no white light but part of my life did flash before my eyes."

He didn't like talking about the possibility of Debra being dead, even for a few seconds. The concept turned over Dexter's stomach and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

_Death has always been my best friend, my lover even. It's comforted and saved me time and time again but not when it comes to Deb I hate it with a vengeance. _

"Which part?" he forced himself to ask, just glad they were talking.

"You remember Todd fucking DeLauro and his fucking birthday party Mom and Dad dragged us to?"

"I remember it," said Dexter. "You and I played Marco Polo on land for nearly two hours before you'd come out." He frowned. "Why did you remember that?"

"I don't fucking know," said Debra in exasperation. "Ask my fucking brain. Todd was such an asshole."

"That's because he liked you," commented Dexter, going back to strapping her toes as he remembered the scrawny kid with the cow lick who would always stare at his sister.

Debra snorted. "Yeah, right."

"He was eight," pointed out Dexter easily. "What was he meant to do, send flowers?"

_I was always on the outside looking in, apart from everyone back then. That perspective meant I was able to see things as they were, with the clarity of a detached observer. I miss those days. _

"He knocked out one of my teeth when he threw a ball at my face," Debra said in disbelief. She rolled her eyes. "Guess I always knew how to attract the princes," she said bitterly, "even back then." Debra grimaced. "Bullies and serial killers, wonder if there is a reality TV show in that for me?" she asked bitterly.

_She's lumping me in with my brother and Yates. I can't let that go. _

"I'm not attracted to you, Deb," said Dexter, staring at her intently.

He saw a flash of pain cross Debra's features before she was abruptly looking away from him. "Yeah, I figured as much when you fucked me this morning," she threw back at him, voice tight and angry sounding.

_Same old Deb, reverting to crassness to hide her fragility. _

Debra looked back at him, a challenge in her eyes. "So, you going to tell me I imagined what happened between us this morning?"

Dexter chose his next words carefully. "Deb, I can't be attracted to you because attraction implies there is some kind of separation between two bodies, that there is a distance to cover between them." He struggled to find the words to articulate the overwhelming feelings he had when it came to Debra. "You-", Dexter shook his head in agitation as words seemed too small to capture all that they were, "you're inside of me, Deb. You're a part of me, a part of my soul." He grimaced. "I-I don't think I was born with a soul," admitted Dexter unsteadily, voicing an idea which had been dancing around in the back of his head for many years now. "I think what soul I do have comes from you and Harry and Harrison." He cast a wary look at Debra, not knowing what she'd make of such a statement.

"D-Dex," she said unsteadily, looking a little shell-shocked and then shook her head. "Fuck me, Vogel was right."

Dexter frowned. "What did Vogel say?"

_Vogel has wormed her way into both of our heads now. I asked her to with Deb but I don't know if it was the right thing to do, we're both exposed to her now. I never seem to know the right thing to do with Deb anymore. _

Debra rolled her eyes. "Some crap about a rabbit and you turning into a real boy because of love." Her expression was serious. "You were always real, Dex. Don't buy into her psycho bullshit that you were somehow less human than anyone else."

"But I wasn't like anyone else," countered Dexter.

"Fuck," said Debra flatly, "like I was. We're all different, Dex. We're all fucked up in our own special way. Look how I treated Anton. That wasn't particularly human of me how I cheated on a man who only wanted to love me and treat me right. What the fuck was that? You think Vogel isn't her own kind of monster?" Debra gave a dry laugh. "Jesus, Dex, the woman creates serial killers. Just because she dresses nicely and talks pretty doesn't change the fact she's the mother of nightmares like Yates."

"And me," said Dexter hoarsely.

Debra closed her eyes and rubbed them tiredly. "You're not a nightmare, Dexter."

"Then what am I?"

Debra dropped her hand away from her face and gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know, you're fucking Dexter, my fucking brother."

_And your lover. We're skirting around that conversation but I know it's coming. _

"You were right, you know," he said unevenly, "when you said all those years of thinking you were the one who needed me and the whole time it was the other way around. I need you in my world, Deb, to make sense of it, to make sense of me." Dexter's lips thinned. "I know that's selfish of me and if I was a better person I'd set you free but I just can't do it." His heart beat a painful tattoo at the admission of weakness.

"Dexter," said Debra shakily, "You're hurting me."

"I know," said Dexter in anguish, "but even knowing that I can't let you go."

_I really am a monster. _

"No," said Debra quickly, "my foot, you're squeezing it too hard and you're hurting me."

Dexter immediately loosened the hold he had on Debra's maimed foot, not having realised how tightly he'd been hanging onto it with his growing anxiousness of trying to relay his feelings to her. He stared down at Debra's bruised and swelling flesh in his hands, knowing he was the reason for it being like that in the first place, and for the fresh pain his sister was in. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

_Sorry for it all. Sorry that I don't know how to stop hurting you, that I don't even want to if it means losing you forever._

Dexter tore his gaze from Debra's injured foot to find she was staring at him intently. Her expression was so serious it frightened Dexter a little. More than a little, a lot.

"I used to think you held onto me so tightly because I was such a fucking screw up," said Debra, a slight tremor to her voice even as she steadily held his gaze. "I always thought you needed to otherwise I'd sink to the bottom of my shithole existence, that you were the one thing keeping me afloat."

Dexter's expression was pained. "I liked you thinking that because it meant you wouldn't ever know the truth."

Debra's voice was quiet. "That it was the other way around?"

"Yes," admitted Dexter painfully.

Debra bit her bottom lip, eyes filling with tears. "We're fucking drowning each other, Dexter."

Debra's assessment of their relationship hung between them, scaring Dexter as he saw the look of bleak anguish on her face.

_Was this it? Was this how things finally ended between us? A summation of our lives together being dismissed as the act of dying? _

Dexter scrambled to find the words to refute Debra's assertion, feeling like everything was at stake with what he would say next...


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N****: And here we have it, the second part of the big conversation between the siblings. :D **

**I hope it all ends up making sense to you and seems authentic with where they are at. The show has really dropped all the Debster stuff and is now all about Hannah which I don't find as emotionally rewarding because Dex's love for Hannah is kinda turning him into the Disney version of himself IMO. A starry eyed Dexter doesn't really do it for me. Not enough confliction. LOL Anyways, my story is very definitely Debster-centric, not that interested in Hannah as a character, she feels a bit flat to me, a bit, I don't know, too convenient. There is no conflict between her and Dexter, so it's a bit dull to me. **

**Anyways, I guess that is why there is fanfiction, hmm? **

**I could easily end my story with this chapter but I won't. I've got a few more twists and turns planned, so hopefully y'all stick around for them. :D **

**Thanks so much for continuing to hang in there with this story and now I'll be quiet and let you get on with it...**

**Chapter TEN**

"I finally figured out that not every crisis can be managed.

As much as we want to keep ourselves safe, we can't protect ourselves from everything.

If we want to embrace life, we also have to embrace chaos."  
~Susan Elizabeth Phillips~

_Breathing Room_

A tear streaked down Debra's slowly bruising cheek. "We're drowning each other, Dex," she said again, this time whispering the hopeless declaration.

The despair in her voice galvanised Dexter into a rebuttal of that statement.

"But we don't have to," said Dexter urgently. "It doesn't have to be that way."

"It's the only way we know to be with each other," she countered hopelessly. "I mean, what the fuck are we meant to do? I tried to let go of you completely and I really did sink to the bottom of the fucking shithole. And you, you're holding onto me so fucking tightly I can't fucking breathe." Debra shook her head in anguish. "We're both so fucked."

"I can loosen my hold on you," Dexter offered up quickly.

Debra was back to looking at him intently. "Can you?"

_That was a good question. I was the kid who got the new puppy and loved it so much ended up squeezing the helpless thing to death. Could I loosen the lid on my fireflies jar to let it breathe and trust that it wouldn't fly away forever? Did I have that in me, to face down that lack of control over a situation? _

"I don't know," admitted Dexter hopelessly, "but I can try."

Debra stared at him for a long moment, as though weighing up his words. Then she was burying her head in her hands. "We fucking slept together, Dexter," she said, words muffled through her hands. "What are we supposed to do next?"

_Another good question. _

"Out of all the things we've done together, I don't think that's the worst taboo we've broken," said Dexter, thinking aloud.

Debra dropped her hands from her face and stared at him with wide-eyed amazement.

Dexter half-shrugged. "Well, it isn't," he reasoned. "We're not blood related. You're my foster sister."

"And do you think that's the point?" asked Debra in disbelief.

"We could make it the point," suggested Dexter hopefully.

"And what, so that makes it okay for us to keep on fucking each other's brains out?" she threw back at him.

Dexter's stomach tightened nervously. "Is-is that what you want?"

_I don't even know what I want Deb's answer to that question to be. I shouldn't have asked it but I have to know. _

"What?" she challenged him fiercely. "Just because I told you I'm in love with you, that means I want to fuck you?"

Dexter moved his shoulders again in hopelessness. "I don't know. Maybe, I don't know. I don't know what you want from me, Deb."

"I want you to love me the way I love you," said Debra hotly. "I want you to want me the way I want you but that doesn't mean I want us to have sex." She glared at him for his stupidity. "Lovers come and go in my life, literally, Dex. I want my brother."

"But a brother who is in love with you," said Dexter slowly, having trouble keeping up with what Debra was saying exactly.

"Yes!" Debra glared at him. "And yes, I know that makes no fucking sense but it's how I feel. There isn't a word for what I want for you, Dex. I can't make it simple for you, can't make it black and white."

_And that was our problem. We aren't black and white. We are more than brother and sister but we aren't a simple romance either. I want things from Deb that only she can give me and it's the same for her. Even if in getting those things we hurt each other and ourselves, we can't walk away from what is between us. There is still a release to being around Deb that no one else brings, a way of being able to breathe and look at myself that no one else can give me. We're addicted to each other, both for the highs and the lows. We're like the man who ties a rope around his neck, denying himself oxygen to heighten the thrill of sexual release. Deb and I were the noose around each other's neck but even as that noose tightened, there is always the need to continue, knowing the ultimate release would make it worth the ever present danger of death._

"Don't just sit there," snapped Debra in frustration. "Fucking say something. What are you thinking?"

_Emotional auto-erotic asphyxiation. _

_Somehow the truth doesn't feel like the right way to go in this moment. _

"I love you," said Dexter unflinchingly, "and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life. We can make this work, Deb, I know we can. We've been through so much together and we can get through this."

"Every time we take a step back towards one another, we find a way to fuck it up," she said in distress. "It's like our fucking super power, finding new ways to fuck each other up every other day."

"That's how love works, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Love," repeated Dexter. "I mean, I know I'm kind of new to the whole concept, but from my experiences of that particular emotion, it's always messy and painful and kinda horrible."

Debra sat back in the sofa and shook her head at him in disbelief. "That's as depressing as fuck, Dexter."

"But it's true, don't you think?" he quizzed her. "It's like when I've got someone on my table and I know they've gotten there because they've caused unimaginable pain to people and they're terrified and panicking but in amongst all that chaos and horror, there is this glorious sense of release and completion when I plunge my knife into them. It's a perfect moment that comes from a series of imperfect ones."

Debra was staring at him in horror. "You're saying love is like killing people?"

Dexter grimaced. "I mentioned I was new to this feeling stuff, right?" He tried to explain himself better. "Look, I can only explain this in a way I understand, Deb. For the longest time I thought I was incapable of any kind of feelings. I mimicked feelings and emotions, to blend in."

"And that's what you did with me growing up?" asked Debra painfully. "It was all an act?"

"It was the easiest with you," said Dexter honestly. "You always gave me so much emotion, Deb. You taught me the most about who I wanted people to see me as."

"But it was still all an act," she said tightly.

Dexter's expression was sombre. "Yes," he admitted honestly, "but then, somewhere along the line, all that interaction with all those different people started to create something in me. I woke up one day to find that I wasn't acting anymore and it scared the hell out of me. An act means you're in control of what you present to the world. Suddenly other people were forcing emotions and reactions from me that I had no control over. I went from always knowing what I was doing and going to do to having these moments when I didn't have a clue. It's terrifying."

"It's living," Debra corrected him. "That's how life goes."

"I'm getting that now and honestly, I don't know how anyone copes. There are days I just want to scream but I'm scared I won't be able to stop. Everything is so confusing and out of control. My life used to be simple but nowadays it's anything but. There are only a few things left that make real sense to me – punishing those who deserve it and you and Harrison. Those are the three things I can't negotiate about in my life. I need you all to survive."

"No matter the cost or consequences?" asked Debra quietly.

"I know," said Dexter in agitation. "It's selfish of me and maybe even cruel but you all give me these perfect moments that keep me going and I don't care what it takes to get them. From what I see that's love. People endure all kind of shit from each other just to have those moments together. It's those fragments which hold our lives together and make them mean something."

Debra closed her eyes and shook her head. "Fuck, I'm more fucked up then I thought because that actually made some kind of crazy ass sense to me."

Dexter gave a hopeful, crooked smile. "It does?"

Debra opened her eyes and looked at him. "Yes, unfortunately. Looks like I infected you with emotions and you infected me with a particular brand of crazy."

"Maybe it's just a kind of clarity most other people don't have because they're buying into the Disney version of love?" suggested Dexter thoughtfully. "All those romantic movies make love shiny and bright and able to be come by in a couple of hours and that hasn't been my experience. Love is tangled and dark and hard."

Debra half-smiled. "Tell me again why they fired you from that Hallmark job?"

Dexter gave a little laugh. "Okay, maybe that wouldn't look good on a Valentine's card but my point is that if something is worthwhile, it's not easy and needs to be fought for." He reached out a tentative hand and took Debra's hand, threading his fingers through hers. "We've made mistakes with one another, Deb, but we've also done a lot of good for each other. You're necessary to me and I want to be necessary to you too."

"Of course you're fucking necessary, you dumbass," she threw back in exasperation, "otherwise I would have walked away the day I found you with Travis Marshall."

"So," he said slowly, "we just keep going forward, making our own kind of story between us as we go?"

"Yes," Debra sighed, "what else can we fucking do? We're as co-dependent as shit on each other."

"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," he offered up hopefully. "I mean, we made it work for the first half of our lives, made each other happy. There is no reason we can't make it work for the rest."

"I want to believe that."

Dexter squeezed her hand. "Then believe it."

Debra bit her bottom lip. "I still just need some breathing room, Dex."

Dexter's face dropped a little. "Oh, okay. Ah, for how long?"

Debra lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. A lot just happened. I need to get it all straight in my head. We had sex, Dexter. That's not nothing."

"No, it definitely wasn't nothing," said Dexter hastily. "It was-it was-" He trailed off, not actually having a word for what it was.

"I know," said Debra whole-heartedly, "that's what I mean. Dexter, you're my brother that I love and that I'm in love with and now I've slept with. I need a fucking moment with this."

"I understand," he sighed. Dexter searched her face. "Just promise me it won't be like last time, when you disappeared from my life for three months. You know I hate it when you hide from me. It drives me crazy." He grimaced as he corrected himself. "Crazier."

"I'm not going anywhere, Dex," said Debra softly, "but I just need to put us in perspective, get a handle on this thing between us. Don't you need that too?"

"I just need you," said Dexter simply.

"See, saying things like that to me really doesn't fucking help," said Debra in mild frustration. "I could take that the wrong way. The last thing I want to be is some kind of fucking love sick puppy scratching at your door."

"That's not how I see you, Deb," said Dexter intently. "You have to know that. My whole life your love for me has astounded me and now that you know the real truth about me, the fact that you still love me is nothing short of heroic to me."

Debra looked away quickly, blushing a little.

_Deb never could take praise easily. _

"It doesn't matter right now how you think of me, Dex," she said seriously. "What matters is how I see myself and I need time and a little space to work that out. Tell me you can give me that."

Dexter drew in a long breath and released it slowly. He looked down at their entwined fingers and then lifted her hand to his lips. Dexter pressed a lingering kiss to the back of Debra's hand, willing himself to have the strength to give her what she needed right then. He closed his eyes and then rested his cheek against the soft flesh. "I can give you that," Dexter promised her.

_Love is sacrifice. This is my sacrifice. I just have to trust my firefly is going to come back to me when she's ready. No more captivity for my bright light in the darkness. _

**oooOOOOooo**

Vogel stood in the doorway of Debra's bedroom as darkness fell outside."Is there anything else I can get you, Debra?"

"No," said Debra tiredly as she sat up in her bed. "I just want to sleep." Today had taken everything out of her. From the horror of being Yates' captive to her emotional talks with Dexter, Debra was spent in every way possible – emotionally and physically.

"I'll leave you be then," said Vogel softly. "Just call out if you need anything."

"Thanks," said Debra, finding the simple word difficult. "I appreciate everything you did for me today."

"I feel responsible for bringing Yates' into yours and Dexter's world," said Vogel calmly. "I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me."

"Yeah, well, shit happens," said Debra dryly.

Vogel gave that serene smile of hers. "It does indeed. You're not to worry about Yates, Debra. Dexter will find him. There is nothing he wouldn't do to protect you. He's devoted to you."

Debra gave a wry smile. "I know." She looked down at the sheet edge she was fiddling with. "It's his curse."

"I would have called it his salvation."

Debra looked up at the other woman in surprise. "I make his life complicated."

"An easy life is over-rated in my opinion," argued Vogel mildly. "Hardship introduces a person to themselves. It's good for a man, particularly a man like Dexter."

"Do you really believe that?" asked Debra intently.

Vogel gave a dry laugh. "I'd like to write a book on the subject."

"About us?" asked Debra in horror.

"You wouldn't approve?"

"Fuck no!" Debra was getting panicky at just the thought of it.

"I'd change the names, obviously."

"I still carry a gun, you know," said Debra menacingly.

Vogel laughed again. "I'll keep that under advisement." She turned off the light. "Sleep well."

"A book," muttered Debra as she settled down onto her bed painfully. "Fuck me, no fucking way." She was hoping that sleep would claim her quickly. Debra didn't want to think about the last time she was in a bed it had been Dexter's and what they'd done there. Of course he'd have to be a great fucking lover. Why couldn't Dexter just be awful in bed and then all this would be so much easier? Probably. Debra wrinkled her nose and sighed heavily into the darkness. It was hard to imagine anything making this easier. Closing her eyes was no help. Every time she did, all she could see was Yates' face shoved in hers, the sound of his taunts and the snapping of her bones. Debra shuddered at the memories. She started as her cell phone suddenly rang and then was annoyed at herself for being so skittish. Debra reached for her phone, grimacing as her ribs complained bitterly at the choice of action. Dexter's ID was flashing up on the screen. Debra shook her head. So much for giving her breathing room. She answered the phone, but before she could remind Dexter of their deal, he spoke first.

"Marco."

Debra bit her bottom lip, surprisingly emotionally tears stinging her eyes at the sound of their childhood game. A police siren filled the siren and Debra realised she could hear it in her room and from her phone. Dexter wasn't far away, most likely sitting out the front of her apartment in his car, keeping guard over her in case Yates turned up. This was her brother's version of space and Debra couldn't help but smile. "Polo," she returned huskily. Debra didn't doubt Dexter would play this game with her for as long as she needed and the thought was as comforting to her as when she'd been a child. Dexter hung up, evidently having heard all he needed to. Putting her phone back on the bedside table, Debra settled down to sleep once again. This time though, sleep claimed her easily, knowing Dexter was standing watch over her and that she was safe.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N****: A nice long chapter for y'all, sorry it took so long. We begin the next beat in this story with this chapter. I have no idea what you'll make of it. It's kind of the thrill/angst of writing. You have an idea which sounds good to you but you have no idea if anyone else is going to share your enthusiasm. LOL **

**Anyways, your continued patronisation of this story is greatly appreciated and I hope you'll stick with me as we head off in this new direction. **

**Toodles... :D **

**Chapter ELEVEN**

"Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect."  
_Margaret Mitchell_

"_Happy birthday, Mom!" _

_The Morgan siblings chorused their birthday wishes together with appropriate enthusiasm. _

_Doris Morgan gave a warm smile as she sat at the breakfast table, looking at the pile of waffles stacked on her plate and the beaming faces of her children. "Well, isn't this a surprise?" _

_It wasn't. Breakfast birthday waffles were a family tradition Dexter and Debra did for their mother every year. Flour dusted Dexter's cheek and forehead while bits of batter hung from Debra's long brown hair as they proudly waited for their mother to partake of their early morning hard work. Behind them the kitchen was a bomb site of dirty bowls and egg shells littering every surface as well as a waffle maker coated in batter. _

_Harry Morgan eyed the fall out in the kitchen. "Were we broken into by a gang of raccoons this morning?" he asked straight-faced. _

"_A mask," Dexter corrected him. "A group of raccoons are called a mask." _

_Harry arched an eyebrow. "Oh, okay, I did not know that. Thank you, Dexter." _

"_Try them, Mom," urged Debra excitedly. "You like them when they're still warm." _

_Doris' smile was a little uneven. "So I do," she agreed. She picked up a fork with a slightly shaking hand and tore some of the warm waffle away, dipping it in the maple syrup. Doris took a mouthful of the treat and gave a bright smile. "Delicious," she announced around a mouthful of food. _

_Debra looked at Dexter. "Told you," she said triumphantly. The ten year old Debra looked back at her Mom, eager to share the secret of such deliciousness. "I added cinnamon," she declared proudly. "Dex said it'd taste funny but I did it anyway." _

"_It's a lovely touch," agreed her mother, swallowing the mouthful of food. Suddenly Doris' face went pale and a sweat broke out on her forehead. _

"_Mom?" asked Debra in concern. "Are you alright?" _

"_Yes, honey," said Doris faintly, "I'm fine. Just woken up with a bit of a headache today." _

_Harry was by her side. "Maybe you should go back to bed, sweetheart." He placed a solicitous hand on her shoulder, face lined with concern. _

_Doris gave a shaky smile. "Y-yes, I might just do that." She went to stand but then suddenly bent over, throwing up violently. The splattered mess of the single mouthful of waffle hit the floor and Dexter yanked the stunned Debra out of the way to avoid it splashing up on them both. Doris' shoulders heaved as she continued to violently vomit up what was the meagre contents of her stomach. _

_Harry caught her before she collapsed to the floor. "Dexter, take your sister outside," he ordered the boy urgently. _

"_Mom?" gasped Debra in horror at the sight of her mother still dry retching on the ground just before her father scooped the heaving woman up into his arms. _

_Dexter's hand was on her arm. "Come on, Deb, let's go outside." _

_Debra tried to shake him off. "What's wrong with Mom?" she asked, voice rising. "I want to stay with Mom!" _

"_You can't do anything," reasoned Dexter, not unkindly as he pulled her away from the table. "Come on, Dad wants us to go outside." _

_Debra let Dexter pull her away in the end, simply because she didn't know what else to do. They sat out on the front stoop of the house, waiting to hear from their father. Ten minutes later Dr Haggerty arrived. He smiled at both children as he arrived, but didn't pause to give any further greeting as Harry met him at the door. _

"_Thank you for coming so quickly, Ted," said Harry gratefully. _

"_Of course, Harry, it's not a problem." _

_Debra watched the two men disappear back into the house, her heart beating painfully in her chest. A fat, frightened tear slid down her freckled face. "I made Mom sick," she whispered. She felt Dexter's gaze on her but didn't look to acknowledge it. _

"_No, you didn't," he countered firmly. "That's silly." _

"_But-but I put cinnamon in the waffle batter and now Mom is really sick," she said painfully. _

"_Mom's not sick because of cinnamon." _

"_Then what's wrong with her?" Debra asked in anguish. There was a long pause and now Debra was looking at Dexter. "Dex," she pushed him, "do you know something I don't? Did Dad say something to you about Mom?" _

"_No," replied Dexter quickly, "it's just that-" _

"_What?" Debra leaned forward towards her brother. "What?" _

_Dexter moved a little uncomfortably on the step and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Haven't you noticed that Mom has gotten real skinny lately? That she doesn't seem to eat very much and when she does she throws it back up?" _

_Debra frowned. She hadn't noticed those things, or maybe, she didn't want to notice those things. Her parents were her whole world and the thought of something happening to either of them set off a panic inside of her body. _

_Dexter continued on, his voice quiet and low. "I think Mom's sick, Deb. I think she's really sick." _

_Debra stared straight ahead as more tears stung her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks and she didn't even bother to hide them. Usually she hated it when people saw her cry but now all she could think about was what Dexter had just said. Suddenly she felt a warm hand in hers. Debra looked down to see Dexter's hand holding hers. He squeezed her hand and Debra felt the band around her heart ease a little. As much as her big brother could annoy her sometimes, being with Dexter always made Debra feel safe and that everything was going to be okay in the end. _

"_Dexter, Debra." _

_They both turned at the sound of their father's voice. Harry stood in the doorway, his face lined with tiredness. _

"_How's Mom?" asked Dexter. _

"_Dr Haggerty has given Mom something to sleep," said Harry. "She's going to feel a lot better when she wakes up." _

"_So-so Mom is going to be alright?" asked Debra hesitantly. She squeezed Dexter's hand for reassurance. _

_Her father hung his head briefly and then looked up, coming to sit between them on the stairs. "Guys, your mother is really sick." _

_Debra's bottom lip quivered. "But she's going to get better, right? That's what you said." _

_Harry's expression became pained and his eyes suspiciously bright. "Honey, your Mom has cancer." _

_Debra knew the word but only had a vague understanding of what it really meant. "But Dr Haggerty's going to fix her, isn't he? That's why he's here?"_

_Harry blinked a couple of times to hold back the tears. His voice was full of emotion when he managed to speak. "The type of cancer your Mom has, there isn't a way to fix it." _

"_She's going to die," said Dexter suddenly. He was staring at a spot on the ground in front of them. _

"_No, no she's not!" said Debra loudly. "You take that back, Dexter!" _

_Her father immediately put an arm around Debra's shaking shoulders and drew her in close to the comfort of his body. "Sweetheart," he said raggedly. _

"_You make Dexter take it back, Dad!" she yelled at him. "Mom's not going to die! You tell him!" Debra desperately needed her father to refute what Dexter was saying, but instead he pulled her into the tightest of hugs, so tight Debra could hardly breathe. It was that hug which told her that this really was happening, that she was going to lose her mother. Debra burst into heartbroken tears as she sobbed her devastation out onto her father's chest. _

**oooOOOOooo**

Debra looked up from her computer screen as her cell phone flashed. She glanced at the caller ID and half-smiled. Debra picked it up and answered. "Hey."

"Hey," returned Dexter easily. "How's things?"

"I'm at work being a shit load of money for ridding the world of cheating husbands," said Debra flatly. "Okay, I guess."

"Well, the money's a good thing, right?"

"I guess," Debra sighed.

"What are you doing this Saturday?"

"I don't know, what am I doing this Saturday?"

"The Wiggles are in town and Harrison is desperate to go. What to make it a threesome?"

"Do I have to wear a turtleneck?"

Dexter laughed. "Only if you really want to."

"Fuck it, why not, I already know all the songs," agreed Debra.

"I'll tell Harrison you're coming, minus the swearing," said Dexter happily. "He's been asking every day since last week if you were coming back for breakfast waffles."

"It was my birthday," said Debra, pleased her little nephew wanted her around. "I don't have a birthday every week, so you don't get birthday waffles every week. Thems the rules." She smiled. "It was very sweet of him to help you make the waffles this year."

"Yeah, he really wanted to. Sorry about all the egg shells. I only turned my back for a minute."

Debra's stomach turned over at all this talk of food and a sweat broke out on her forehead. "It was good roughage."

"You didn't eat many, is that why?"

Debra frowned. "What?"

"Normally you eat your own body weight in birthday waffles, no matter whose birthday it is. This year you just kind of pushed them around on the plate."

Debra rubbed her suddenly aching temples tiredly. "Is there something you want to say to me, Dex?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line and Debra knew it was Dexter choosing his next words carefully. They'd made their way back to each other in the last few months, at first using Harrison as a buffer between them but now they were genuinely back in each other's lives. Debra was glad to have Dexter back, even though things were still confusing for her on a lot of levels. There were still plenty of times where they could just be together and it was as easy as it had ever been. Debra had noticed though, that Dexter had taken to being a little more careful around her with what he said and did. She supposed it was to be expected but it could be as annoying as fuck.

"Have you-are you-" Dexter cleared his throat and tried again. "You look like you lost a bit of weight the last time I saw you. You're not on a diet or something stupid like that, are you?"

"Fuck off," said Debra without hesitation. "Of course not."

"It's just that I heard you in the bathroom, after the breakfast waffles."

Debra blushed. "I threw up, so what? I told you I had picked up a stomach bug on my last trip. You think I'm fucking bulimic all of a sudden?"

"I think you never went and saw a doctor after what happened," countered Dexter.

"Jesus, Dex, that was nearly four months ago," said Debra in agitation. "Just let it go already. My toes have healed up and I didn't die from salt water aspiration. I don't want to think about that time anymore."

"I know," said Dexter unhappily. "It's just that I worry about you. I need to know everything is okay with you." There was another long pause. "When I heard you being sick after the birthday waffles-"

"I know," said Debra, cutting him off as she tensed a little. "You thought of Mom." It had been the worst day of her young life up until that point. Even continuing on the birthday waffle tradition had been hard because the next year their mother hadn't been there but Harry had insisted, said she'd have wanted it that way.

"It wouldn't hurt to get a check up, would it?" wheedled Dexter.

Fear curled at Debra's already nauseous stomach. "I don't need a fucking check up, Dexter. I've just got a stomach bug." She rubbed her aching stomach. "I'm already feeling better," Debra lied.

"Then it won't take long," reasoned Dexter. "I could come with you, if you wanted."

"So you could be sure I went?" countered Debra dryly.

"Okay, I'm just going to say it," said Dexter determinedly. "A lot of cancers are hereditary and outcomes are always a lot better if caught early."

"I've got cancer now?" asked Debra in disbelief. "Fuck, Dex, a minute ago we were talking about the Wiggles!"

"I didn't say that," said Dexter quickly. "Of course you don't have cancer."

"Then why do I need to see a doctor?"

Dexter's voice was hopeful. "To make your brother happy?"

Debra shook her head. "And why would I want to do that?"

"Because I'd do anything to make you happy."

Debra blew out an exhausted breath. "Fuck but I hate you sometimes." Dexter knew she could never say no to him when he was being sweet. _The fucker._

"Make the appointment and I'll drive you," he offered.

Debra knew she had no intention of seeing a doctor. The word cancer still terrified her. She saw how her mother had suffered as she slowly faded away while the cancer had ravaged her from the inside out. Debra didn't want to know if the same fate awaited her.

"How about this afternoon?"

"I've got an appointment with Dr Vogel this afternoon," dismissed Debra. "And I can drive myself, Dex. I'm not a fucking invalid."

"But you're going to do it?" pushed Dexter.

"Yes, yes, I'm going to do it," lied Debra in agitation. "Get off my fucking back already." Elway appeared in the doorway and lounged against the door frame. His was a welcome intrusion. "Look, I've got to go, my boss is giving me the evil eye." Debra quickly hung up before Dexter could harass her on the subject anymore.

Elway arched an eyebrow. "I'm giving you the evil eye?"

Debra half-shrugged. "Aren't you? It was a personal call."

Elway stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered into the room. "I think we both know I'm not the kind of regimented boss who stands over his employees, particularly when it comes to you, Deb." He sat on the edge of her desk and smiled down at her.

The smell of coffee and aftershave mingled together from Elway's close proximity to her and Debra's stomach lurched in protest. She tried to ignore it, even as fresh sweat broke out on her upper lip. "I'm almost done with the Mueller file. I've got a few new leads to check out but hopefully I'll have it wrapped up by tomorrow."

"You've turned into my star employee," noted Elway. "You close nearly twice as many cases as anyone else on my payroll lately."

"Yeah, well, you don't pay me to sit around on my ass all day."

Elway smiled. "I just wanted to let you know I appreciate your dedication and I wanted to acknowledge it."

Debra screwed up her face, even as her stomach continued to turn over violently. "You're not going to start one of those fucking employee of the months photo boards, are you? Fuck me, Elway, I'll run you down with my car if you even think about it."

He chuckled. "As gracious as always when it comes to compliments. No, I was thinking more of a celebratory dinner."

"You're taking the whole office out to dinner?"

"I was thinking along the lines of just the two of us."

Debra stared at him. "You mean, like as a date?"

Elway leaned a little closer, his blue eyes intent. "Would that be such a horrible thing?"

The smell of coffee intensified and it was too much for Debra's fragile stomach. The meagre contents of her stomach heaved itself up into the back of her throat and she scrambled to find something to be sick into. The waste paper basket by her feet was all Debra could find. She grabbed it and threw up violently into the contents.

Elway abruptly stood up and looked down at her in concern. "Deb, are you alright?"

"I'm peachy fucking keen," said Debra raggedly, head still inside the waste basket before she heaved up again, this time only really tasting acrid bile. As soon as she was sure it was safe, Debra put the basket down.

Elway shook his head at her. "You are not good for a man's ego, Debra Morgan."

Debra reached for a tissue with a shaking hand. "Fuck off," she said weakly. "I've still got that stomach bug from when I drank the water in fucking Mexico."

"You shouldn't have done that."

Debra glared at him as she wiped at her mouth. "No shit, Sherlock."

"That was a couple of weeks ago, you should be over that by now."

"Yeah, well, I'm not," said a dour Debra.

"Okay, you're seeing a doctor, now," said Elway firmly.

"No, I'm not," she said tightly.

"It's company policy when employees are throwing up in office furniture that they see a doctor," said Elway blithely. "We go through less waste paper baskets that way."

"I'll buy you a new one," grumbled Debra.

"Not really my point, Morgan," he countered. "See a doctor or you're fired."

She glared up at him. "That's fucking blackmail."

Elway's head bobbed up and down happily. "Yes, it fucking is, I'm glad you picked up on that. I was worried I was being too subtle."

She grunted at him, not having the strength to argue with him anymore. Why couldn't these fucking men just leave her the fuck alone already?

**oooOOOOooo**

Evelyn Vogel glanced at her watch, noting the time. She walked out of her house to check her mailbox, knowing the mail man would have come by this time. The metal box was stuffed with white envelopes and she mused about the simple pleasure of receiving mail. She still preferred the feeling of crisp paper in her hand to the cold impersonality of electronic mail. Vogel glanced up as she went to turn around and head back into her house and saw a familiar car across the road. She tilted her head and eyed the young woman curiously as she sat in the car, staring straight ahead. Another glance at her watch told Vogel that Debra was early for her usual appointment. She tucked her mail under one arm and headed out her front gate, crossing the road. Stopping at the car, she bent down a little to talk through the open window. "Debra?"

Debra started, as though she'd been so lost in thought she hadn't noticed the other woman's approach. "Oh, ah, hi, Dr Vogel." She grimaced. "I know I'm early. I'll just wait out here."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Vogel evenly, "come inside. I'll make us some tea."

Debra reluctantly climbed out of the car and as they walked back to the house, Vogel surreptitiously observed the other woman. Debra's face was pale and drawn and she looked almost to be in a state of shock. Her movements were slow and almost clumsy, like there was a disconnect from her body. They walked into the house together. Vogel indicated the sofa. "Take a seat, I'll make us some tea."

Debra shook her head. "I don't want tea." She rubbed her arm distractedly. "Thanks," she muttered in an afterthought of politeness.

Vogel regarded Debra with interest. She walked over and took a seat on the same sofa, expression intent. "Is something wrong, Debra? You seem upset."

Debra gave a choked laugh. "Is something wrong?" she repeated unevenly. "When isn't there something fucking wrong in my life?"

Vogel settled in beside her, her tone compassionate. "What's happened, Debra? Is it Dexter? Have you two fought again?"

"No," said Debra dully.

"Work is alright?"

She lifted a listless shoulder. "Yeah, the usual."

"Debra, I think you came to me for help but I can't do that if I don't know what's wrong," said Vogel patiently. "Please tell me what has you so upset."

Debra swallowed hard and wrapped protective arms around her body. "I-I went to see a doctor today," she forced out through pale lips.

Vogel's eyes never left Debra's face, trying to pre-empt what the young woman might say next. Whatever it was, it was clearly disturbing her greatly. "I see."

Debra stared ahead, her voice draining of all emotion. "You know, shit happens in your life and you think, right, that's it, it's not going to get any worse than that, that's rock bottom, you know?" Her face twisted in despair. "But then something else even shittier happens to you and you realise there is so much worse out there which can happen to you."

Vogel's voice was quiet. "Did the doctor have bad news for you, Debra?" She knew Doris Morgan had died of cancer, had been there for Harry when he'd buried his wife. Suddenly Vogel was concerned for Debra. The younger Morgan sibling had been looking a little frail in her last couple of consults but Vogel hadn't commented. Her young patient had made so much progress in coming to terms with her relationship with her brother and her past, it'd be a cruel irony if after Debra had fought so hard for her mental health, her physical health might fail her.

Tears started to fall from Debra's abruptly watering eyes. "When does the shit end?" she asked hopelessly. "When does my life stop sucking ass? How much more do I have to pay for my sins?"

Vogel leaned forward and placed a comforting hand on Debra's arm. "Debra, you have to tell me what is wrong. That is the only way I can help you. What did the doctor tell you, Debra?"

Debra stared at her with haunted eyes. "The last thing I wanted to hear," she said hollowly. Debra abruptly buried her head in her hands. "Fuck," she choked out in anguish and started to sob openly.

Vogel's heart sank as she saw the state of Debra. She put her arm around the young woman and just let her cry for now, knowing answers could wait... for now.

**A/N****: Thoughts, observations, feelings? What did you make of that chapter? Where am I heading next? Love to hear your thoughts. :D **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N****: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer, guys. Work really isn't giving me much free brain space these days. **

**It was great reading so many responses to the last chapter, I really enjoyed that, so thank you. I hope this chapter won't be a letdown but we'll see how we go, hmm? Hope you enjoy...**

**Chapter TWELVE**

"Information can be such a double-edged sword."

~Jessiqua Wittman

_A Memoir of Love_

Debra watched on listlessly as Vogel poured out two cups of tea. What was it about hot, flavoured water which convinced some people that was all that was needed to solve the woes of the world? Debra knew this problem wasn't going to be solved with fucking tea. Her lips tightened as she felt a fresh wave of hopeless tears threaten to overwhelm her but she fought them back valiantly. Vogel handed Debra a cup of tea in fine bone china, smiling pleasantly. Debra just stared at it like she'd never seen one before in her life. "I'm pregnant," she blurted out through numb lips. The words hung between them in the silence of the room. It was the first time Debra had said the words aloud and they still weren't real to her. When that doctor had told her she was pregnant, Debra hadn't believed her. She'd actually gone home and done a home pregnancy test, four of them, just to prove the woman wrong. But she'd been the one to be proven wrong.

Vogel lowered the tea cup back onto the coffee table when it became clear Debra wasn't going to take it. "I see," she said evenly. Vogel settled back down in the sofa beside Debra. "I can see you were caught off guard by such news. You never suspected?"

"No, I never fucking even thought of it," said Debra harshly. "I always use birth control, always!"

"It's not always a hundred percent reliable," noted Vogel calmly.

"Fuck me, you don't say," snapped Debra bitterly.

"When did you find out?"

"A couple of hours ago." Debra closed her eyes and shook her head. "I thought the doctor was going to tell me I had cancer or something. I fucking wish she had now, it'd be better than this."

"A child isn't a death sentence, Debra," Vogel corrected her. "Have you considered the possibility that this might be a positive thing for you?"

Debra looked at her like she was crazy. "I'm a fucking mess," she said in horror. "In what way am I fit to be a mother? I'm a murderer and a liar and I fuck up everything I touch. I hurt anyone who is stupid enough to try and get close to me and you think that me being a mom would somehow magically fix all of that?"

"I'm saying a child gives you a bigger priority than yourself," she said mildly. "Another person who relies solely on you can alter your perspective. It changes everything, Debra."

"Yeah, for the worse," muttered Debra darkly. The horror of knowing she was pregnant was all she could think about. This really was a nightmare except now there was a true innocent at stake. What had she done?

"Is this about Dexter?" asked Vogel intently. "Do you have reservations because of him and what this will do to your relationship?"

Debra froze, her heart beating wildly. "What the fuck does Dexter have to do with this?"

"You've found your footing with each other again," observed Vogel. "This pregnancy could easily undo that if you're not careful. I know he's the most important relationship in your life."

"Why-why would this affect my relationship with Dexter?" asked Debra, fearful Vogel had somehow worked out about her and Dexter's moment of insanity.

"Because Dexter killed the father of your unborn child," pointed out Vogel. "You must have a lot of conflicted emotions about that."

Debra blinked. "What?"

"Andrew Briggs," prompted Vogel. "He's the father of this child, isn't he?"

"Y-yes, of course he is," agreed Debra hastily, heart in her mouth. It was a logical assumption to make because Debra had told the older woman about that involvement and how it ended as part of her therapy sessions. Briggs had been a welcome distraction, a source of sex and drugs where Debra didn't have to think about what she'd done when she was with him. Of course, Dexter had killed him but then her brother always did seem to have a way of taking away all of her pain killing activities. Since Briggs' death Debra had been too busy having a complete mental breakdown for any other man. Any other man except one but there was no way in hell she was going to share that little detail.

Vogel crossed her legs and cocked her head, eyeing Debra with interest. "It would be completely understandable if you viewed this pregnancy as a destabilising force in your life-"

"What else could it fucking be?" broke in Debra in agitation. "A baby would fuck up everything completely. I don't want this."

"So," said Vogel quietly, "you're going to terminate the pregnancy?"

"Fuck yes," bit out Debra. It was the only way out she could see. Vogel frowned and Debra welcomed the surge of outraged anger which flashed through her. "What, you're pro-life?" she sneered. "You don't think a woman should have a choice when it comes to her own body? This isn't the fucking 1950's anymore."

Vogel remained unfazed by Debra's outburst. "I'm in complete agreement that women should be allowed a choice in their decisions when it comes to bearing children," she said mildly. "My main concern when it comes to you, Debra, is that you don't feel like you have a choice." Her face became sympathetic. "You recently faced down a situation where you felt like you had no choice. It was Dexter or LaGuerta. You felt trapped and backed into a corner and ever since you've been having a lot of difficulty resolving your ultimate decision, and a big part of that was because you felt like you had no other choice. You only had a split second to weigh up the consequences of your actions. This time, it doesn't have to be that way."

Debra shook her head and looked away, not wanting to see the validity of Vogel's argument.

"I just want you to take some time, Debra," counselled Vogel. "Time to weigh up the implications of your decision, whatever that decision may end up being. Time for you to truly own your actions and come to terms with them."

Debra blinked back tears as she stared unseeingly out of the window. "Time won't change what has to be done. I can't be a mother. I don't have it in me."

"I think you've spent your whole life underestimating what you are capable of, Debra Morgan," said Vogel wisely. "This is your life we're talking about here, not Dexter's. You two will always impact on one another but at some point, you have to take care of your life first and not Dexter's."

Debra grimaced. Easier said than done.

"Just promise me you'll give yourself some time to really think about this situation, Debra," Vogel urged her. "You owe that to yourself."

Debra didn't answer, just continued staring out of the window and wishing this was all just some kind of horrible dream she was about to wake up from.

**oooOOOOoooo**

"Aunt Deb!" Harrison's excited calling out of her name had an automatic smile on Debra's lips as she moved through the crowd of parents and children. Small arms flung themselves around her legs as Harrison gave her an enthusiastic hug. He looked up at her, a huge grin on his face. "You're here!" he said in delight. "Daddy said you mightn't come cause you've been feeling sick." Harrison looked pleased with himself. "I told him you'd be here."

Debra ruffled her young nephews' blonde hair affectionately. "Like I'd miss out on the Wiggles," she said in amusement. "I've been waiting all week for this." Debra took in the long green, stuffed dinosaur tail Harrison was currently sporting. "Nice tail, bud."

Harrison grinned and wiggled his bottom, making the tail swish back and forth for good effect. "I look like Dorothy!" He became suddenly serious. "A boy Dorothy," he pointed out, lest there should be any confusion on the matter.

"You sure do," agreed Debra with an affectionate smile.

Dexter suddenly appeared from the crowd. "Harrison, what did I tell you about running off by yourself?" he asked in exasperation.

"I'm not by myself," reasoned the boy, "I'm with Aunt Deb."

"So I see." Dexter smiled at Debra, looking almost relieved. "You're here."

"I said I would be," Debra reminded him. Although, truth be told, in the three days since she'd found about this unwanted pregnancy, Debra hadn't been sure she was going to turn up. But not turning up would have had Dexter on her doorstep, checking up on her. This way Debra could at least try and control their contact.

Harrison grabbed both of their hands and dragged them towards the stage which was set up in the middle of the outdoor stadium. "Come on," he ordered them, "we have to get closer."

The two adults let themselves be dragged along by the child until they'd found a spot at the front which met with his approval. The area was rapidly filling up with more and more adults and children as the time for the concert to start drew closer.

"I'm glad you're here," said Dexter in her ear as they jostled for position at the front of the stage.

"Yeah, well, who's going to pass on seeing the Wiggles live," said Debra wryly.

"Harrison has been so excited, he didn't sleep at all last night," said Dexter. "I predict a major crash this afternoon." He gave Debra a sideways look. "Maybe you and I can hang out at my place after?"

Debra wanted to scream no in his face, scared of what time alone with Dexter might cause her to say. But then saying no to Dexter was always something she'd never really gotten the hang of. "Sure, okay."

Harrison gave a little squeal, distracting them from further conversation as a man dressed in theatrical pirate garb appeared on stage. "It's Captain Feathersword!" exclaimed Harrison, jumping up and down on the spot in his excitement. The show was underway now and soon all four Wiggles were on stage, along with Dorothy the Dinosaur, Wags the dog and all the backup dancers. The children in the audience were all well into the spectacle, singing and dancing along, as the entertainers held their attention with ease. It was just the distraction Debra needed from her thoughts chasing their way around each other in her head. About halfway through though, she needed to eat something. The doctor told her to eat regularly to combat the morning sickness and that was helping a lot. She grabbed Dexter's arm and yelled in his ear over the noise of children and adults alike singing the 'Big Red Car'. "I'm getting food, you want anything?"

"Anything with sugar," yelled back Dexter. "I need the hit to keep up."

Debra smiled and nodded, leaving them to it while she went to seek out some food. After buying a couple of hot dogs, a big bag of caramelised popcorn and two sodas, she went to head back into the audience. Debra stopped on the outskirts of the large group, food in hand, her eyes seeking out Dexter and Harrison. They were both dancing along to the Hot Potato song and Debra's heart constricted at the unbearably cute sight. Looking at Dexter indulge his son's excitement and playing along with it, all you could see was a loving father. Debra knew that wasn't all Dexter was though. As easily as he could fall into playing with his son, Dexter could also kill with no remorse or empathy. Debra's hand tightened on the soda tray, trying to reconcile those two facts. Harrison was laughing and dancing with his father, blissfully unaware his father was in anyway different from any of his friends' fathers. How long would that idyllic ignorance last? Debra bit her bottom lip. Her own blissful ignorance when it came to Harry had lasted up until just last year. Was it conceivable Harrison would never find out his father was a serial killer? In what way could it be right to introduce another child into such a precarious future? It was bad enough she was going through all of this shit, did some innocent child have to be forced into it as well?

"It's like being at a Rolling Stones concert, isn't it?"

Debra started at the amused question and turned her head to see a woman standing beside her.

The woman winked at her. "Just less drugs and sex, huh?"

"Ah, yeah," said Debra uncertainly, not really up for small talk right then.

"Is that your family?" The woman inclined her head towards where Dexter and Harrison were still dancing away.

"Yeah," responded Debra without thinking.

"It's so nice you could get your husband to come along to something like this."

"It was his idea and he isn't-"

"His idea?" repeated the woman in surprise, interrupting Debra's attempt at clarifying the situation. "Wow, that's a keeper you've got there. Any time a man gets that involved in child rearing and doesn't mind being silly in public just to make them happy, that's a man you hang onto tight." The woman gave a little laugh as she watched their antics. "Those two are just adorable together and they look so much alike." She looked Debra up and down. "You didn't get much of a look in this time, maybe with this next one."

Debra froze. "What?"

The woman was smiling at her pleasantly. "You know, with this next baby, he or she might look more like you. I always think that it's so unfair when babies don't have at least some of their mother in them, seeing as we're the ones who do all the hard work." The woman was talking a mile a minute. "So, when are you due?"

"How do you know I'm pregnant?" asked Debra in distress. Her stomach was still flat and Debra didn't know of any other signs she should be hiding from the world. The last thing she wanted was anyone else finding out about this huge mistake.

"You've got that glow," said the woman knowingly.

Debra wrinkled her brow. "That's a real thing?"

"Absolutely, pregnancy affects your skin, plus, I can tell you're at the stage where you've just gotten over the morning sickness thing and that brings its own kind of glow, being able to eat again."

Debra gnawed away on her inner lip anxiously. A glow. Was there anyone in her life who'd notice such a subtle thing? Only Dexter really. He was the one who always noticed the little things, he'd always been incredibly observant.

"Haven't told him yet, huh?"

Debra looked at the woman almost fearfully. Was she some kind of fucking psychic mind reader? Whatever it was, the bitch was freaking her right out.

The woman put a comforting hand on her arm. "My third child was unplanned as well. I was worried about telling Pete, that's my husband, cause his job wasn't that stable at the time but it was fine. Pete's a good dad and I can see yours is too. Men might stress over the details of more children, but ultimately, as soon as they hold them in their arms for the first time, they're just undone. It's all going to be fine, honey, trust me."

Debra blinked back emotional tears. She was getting fucking sick of tearing up at every little thing but her body didn't seem to be listening to her anymore. If all she and Dexter had to worry about were financial issues then this would be a fucking walk in the park. But it wasn't. Debra was pregnant with her foster brother's baby and that foster brother just happened to be a serial killer who she'd murdered an innocent woman to protect. They weren't the simple family unit this woman was seeing. They were fucking warped and to bring a baby into their morally ambiguous shit holes of existence couldn't be anything other than an act of cruelty. Debra swallowed hard, knowing there could only be one ending to this story and she was the one who was going to have to end it. She'd done as she promised Vogel and thought about what she was going to do next but there really had only ever been one choice to make and Debra knew she had to make it.

**A/N****: I know, I know, I tried a bit of misdirection with the cancer thing... I didn't want it to be too painfully obvious as to what comes next. LOL Next chapter will be Dexter's POV, so I hope you'll tune in to see that. :D **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N****: Hello all, so sorry about how long this next chapter has taken me. I've just had no time with work to sit down and do anything. I've got a day off today, so I've quickly jotted out this chapter for you all. **

**This chapter actually turned out nothing like I planned, which I always find an interesting thing. The muse can be so fickle but I've learnt long ago to let her have her way. These chapters are always fun from my POV because they catch me off-guard because I don't always know where they're going but the muse usually seems to know what she's doing. LOL Hopefully she does with this chapter as well. **

**I won't carry on too much, seeing as I've made you wait so long for this next chapter. I'd like to think the next one isn't too far away, but that will really depend on work and how much brain space it leaves me with at the end of the day. . **

**In the meantime, hope you find this little morsel to your satisfaction...**

**Chapter THIRTEEN**

"I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only.

I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary."

~Margaret Atwood~

"I'll get the door," offered Debra as she walked ahead of Dexter, who was carrying the unconscious Harrison in his arms. She quickly opened Dexter's apartment door and held it open for them.

"I'll just put him to bed," said Dexter, "and try and wipe as much sugar off him as possible in case he gets carried away by ants in his sleep."

"Good luck with that," said Debra wryly. "I've never seen one kid eat so much caramel popcorn." She plucked a piece from Harrison's hair as Dexter walked by with him. "Rita didn't have any diabetes in her family, did she?"

"Hopefully not," said Dexter in amusement as he continued onto Harrison's bedroom. He laid down his sleeping bundle on the bed and pulled the boy's shoes off and then his sugar coated t-shirt. Harrison didn't even stir, exhausted from a day of running about and too much excitement. Dexter slipped into the bathroom and returned with a cloth, wiping the worst of the remaining food left on his son's face. He liked caring for Harrison this way, especially when the boy was drowsy or asleep. It reminded Dexter of how he'd prepare his victims. It was soothing, the routine of it all. That was probably a weird association but Dexter was never very good at discerning what would upset a normal person and what wouldn't. He'd learnt by observation over the years but the feelings you were meant to associate with things typically good and bad just never came. All Dexter knew was that he enjoyed knowing Harrison's security and safety was in his hands because he'd do anything to protect that safety.

_Maybe it's nothing like preparing my victims after all. Life is all I want to secure in Harrison, death is all I want to give to those people on my table. _

Yet the feelings Dexter felt from taking care of both completely different types of people in his life felt so similar. It didn't make any sense but then, to Dexter, feelings never did. After tucking Harrison into bed he walked back out into the living room to find Debra sitting on a stool in the kitchen and eating pizza she'd just found in his fridge. Dexter arched an eyebrow. "Cold pizza?" he quizzed her as he walked around on the other side of the breakfast bar and pulled out a stool to sit on as well. "Since when do you like cold pizza? You always said it reminded you of cold snot."

"Jesus, Dex," complained Debra around a mouthful of pizza, "you're on me when I don't eat, you're on me when I do. What the fuck is going to make you happy?"

Dexter grinned, suddenly feeling a ridiculously disproportionate sense of happiness to the simplicity of the situation. He spoke without thinking. "You."

The slice of pizza which was halfway to Debra's mouth stalled as she stared at him, a little wide-eyed at that comment.

Dexter froze, knowing his careless word could be interpreted a lot of different ways.

_I've always been so careful with what I say to people, even Deb, especially Deb, why are my lips so loose with her all of a sudden? _

At the thought of lips, Dexter suddenly had a vivid flashback of Debra's kissing their way down his body. The way they'd felt, scrapping his skin, the helpless gasps of pleasure they'd wrung from his own. Dexter swallowed hard and willed himself not to look at Debra's lips. He hadn't meant that simple confession to mean he wanted anything more then to have a happy and content sharing her life with his own.

_Then why did I say it? _

Dexter knew the answer to his own question, even though he didn't want to. He and Debra had opened the Pandora's box between them that night. Endless complications had escaped and a relentless awareness of Debra as a woman rather than a safe, sexless sibling was one of the escapees. Their already complicated, emotional relationship had another side part to it – physical desire. For the most part Dexter ignored it but there were certain moments when it reared up between them. Unexpected moments, moments Dexter couldn't anticipate and plan to protect himself against. Like when Debra was shoving day old pizza into her mouth like there was no tomorrow and telling him to fuck off. That shouldn't be sexy.

_But it is. Sexy as the hell that is undoubtedly waiting for me. _

Dexter's resolve faltered and his gaze slipped to Debra's mouth. Her lips were glistening with fat from the pizza. Again, that shouldn't be appealing but it was. Dexter's heart was practically beating its way out of his chest as he stared at her lips, mesmerised. For the longest time Dexter hadn't understood sex, found it unnecessary and undignified. He still didn't understand the compulsion which drove people to lay themselves so bare with another person but he knew the sweet rewards of abandoning all reason and letting go. And the consequences.

Debra abruptly looked away, breaking the spell between them. "What's a girl got to do to get a beer around here?" she muttered, refusing to look at him.

Dexter let out an unsteady breath, grateful for Debra's self-control when his seemed to be so unreliable these days. "You can't have any," he said distractedly.

Debra's head snapped around and she glared at him but there was something other than outrage in her expression but Dexter couldn't tell quite what.

"Why the fuck not?" she demanded to know.

"I-I only have the full strength stuff," said Dexter, a little taken aback by her vehemence. "You're driving. It'll put you over the limit."

Debra blinked and looked a little flustered. "Oh, yeah, okay."

"I've got mineral water, soda and juice."

She shook her head. "Nah, forget it." Debra dropped her half-eaten piece of pizza back onto the plate, wiping her greasy hands on her pants' leg. "I've got to get going anyway. I've got to go into the office, check on a couple of things."

"It's Saturday afternoon," pointed out Dexter.

_I don't want her to leave even though we both know it's the smart thing to do. When did I start being the dumbest person in the room? _

"Yeah, well, crime never sleeps or takes weekends off," said Debra wryly as she stood up. "Like you don't know that."

_I do know that and I don't have any coherent reason for wanting to make you stay. _

Dexter watched helplessly as Debra walked over to the door. "Thanks for coming today," he said quickly. "It meant a lot to Harrison."

_And me. _

Debra turned around and smiled. "I had fun. Watching you attempt to dance is always laugh a minute."

"I thought I did okay," protested Dexter with feigned hurt pride.

"You looked like a frog in a blender," Debra said, straight-faced. "It was ugly." She gave a lop-sided smile. "But cute."

"That's an oxymoron," said Dexter, prolonging their banter, keeping her there for as long as he could.

"If anyone's an oxymoron, Dex," said Debra with a tinge of mocking, "it's you."

_I can't argue with that. _

Debra opened the door. "Thanks for the pizza. See you around."

"When?"

Debra paused in the doorway. She lifted one shoulder. "Not sure. I-I'm-ah-I'm going to be out of town for a couple of days from Monday. You know, with work."

Dexter frowned a little. "Nothing dangerous?"

She shook her head. "Nah, just some surveillance stuff. I'll be sitting on my ass all day and taking pictures from across the street while stuffing my face with junk food."

"Sounds like fun."

Debra avoided looking at him. "Yeah, it'll be a fucking blast." She gave a vague wave of her hand. "Later."

She closed the door behind her and left Dexter sitting on the stool and staring at the same door. He rubbed a slightly shaking hand over his face, as he contemplated how differently things could have turned out between them just then if Debra hadn't shown some self-control. Everything could be so normal between them and then suddenly, it wasn't. The randomness of those moments unnerved Dexter. He didn't know how to plan for them, how to keep them both safe when it happened. "This is going to go away," he muttered, trying to convince himself that was possible. The whole situation was totally unchartered waters for the two of them and what made navigating their way through all of this was that neither one of them knew where they wanted their final destination to be. Dexter gave a frustrated grunt and dropped his hand from his face. As he did, he spied Debra's keys sitting on the table. He leapt up and grabbed them, hurrying to the door. Dexter walked out of his apartment, quickly covering the distance to the undercover parking space where Debra always parked when visiting him. He found her leaning against her car, staring up at the flickering overhead light of one of the lights which was always on. Dexter held up her keys. "You forgot something."

Debra started, as though she hadn't noticed his arrival. She hastily straightened up. "Ah, thanks."

Dexter slowed his pace as he walked towards her. "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You didn't come back and get your keys."

"I was about to." Debra held out her hand in expectation of the key. "But now I don't need to."

Dexter didn't hand over the keys immediately because then Debra would leave and he still didn't want that. "What were you doing just then?"

Debra frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You were staring at the light."

"It's broken." She glanced up at the stuttering light. "It keeps flickering. You need to tell the landlord to get that fixed."

"I will."

Debra wiggled her fingers. "Dex, my keys."

Dexter went to drop them into her hand, frustrated at his own reluctance.

What am I hoping to achieve by keeping Debra here? What the hell do I want?

Distracted, Dexter misaimed with the keys and they missed Debra's hand, dropping to the ground. "Sorry," he said hastily, immediately bending down to get them. Unfortunately Debra had the same instinct and their heads collided in a noisy and painful clunk.

Debra reeled back, clutching at her forehead. "Fuck, Dexter!" she complained loudly, glaring at him.

The part of his head which had contacted with Debra's must have been a harder part, because Dexter barely felt the pain. Meanwhile Debra was rubbing her forehead furiously and her eyes were bright with unbidden pain-filled tears.

"Deb, I'm so sorry," said Dexter unhappily as he moved closer to check on her. He grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away. "Here, let me look."

"What is your head made of?" she asked in annoyance, still looking a little dazed. "Concrete? You fucking nearly knocked me out, you dumbass."

Dexter had Debra's head in his hands as he peered closely at the unintentional wound he'd inflicted. There was already a slight lump appearing from the force of the blow. He grimaced. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"That's all you fucking seem to say to me these days."

Dexter caught her gaze. "Don't," he ordered her painfully.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Dexter?" asked Debra unevenly, almost fearfully.

"Nothing," he replied instantly, still holding her face in his hands. Dexter's gaze searched hers, feeling that same conflict rise up inside of him, heart starting to pound again. "Everything," he contradicted himself hoarsely.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," said Debra in anguish, her breathing erratic.

"I'm driving me crazy too," admitted Dexter and then he was crushing her lips under his. This was the one thing he promised himself he'd never do again but as soon as Debra's lips parted under his, Dexter knew he wasn't going to be able stop himself. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting the pizza, tasting her. Dexter's head spun as the blood pounded through his veins. The voice inside his head was screaming at him to stop but he couldn't. Dexter held onto Debra tightly as he backed her up, grunting a little as her back hit the wall and there was no longer anywhere for her to go. He used this new barrier to good effect, grinding his body against hers, instantly addicted to the way their bodies fitted together. Dexter groaned into their fervent kisses, grabbing for one of Debra's legs and pulling it up, fitting it around his waist so he could better fit himself against her softness. His whole body was throbbing, on fire and the only thought in his head was of her.

They were out in the open, anyone could appear in that car park at any moment and see the siblings dry humping against the wall. That's what it'd look like to the rest of the world. Everyone just knew Debra as his sister and they wouldn't understand this. Why would they when Dexter didn't understand it either. His hand snaked up under Debra's shirt, cupping a firm breast. Dexter remembered the feeling of one of those pert nipples in his mouth and wanted to do nothing more than strip the clothes from her body and repeat the experience. He dragged his lips from hers. "Come back upstairs," he ordered her raggedly, finding speaking difficult over his laboured breathing.

Debra looked as dazed and overwhelmed as he felt. "Why?" she panted, caught somewhere between longing and fear.

"Because I don't want to take you up against a wall in the parking garage." Even saying the words allowed had more blood diverting south of the border for Dexter. He was in agony and Debra was both the cause and the cure.

"But you do want to take me?" she challenged him unevenly.

Dexter didn't even know how Debra could ask him that question. She could be in no doubt as to the effect she was having on him thanks to the way the lower half of their bodies were practically welded together at this point. "Fuck, yes," he growled, unable to censure himself any longer. This was only going to make things so much more complicated but Dexter couldn't bring himself to care. Debra was under his skin, pumping through his veins and he needed her, desperately.

Debra shuddered against him at his desperate confession. "We're making a fucking mess," she whimpered.

"Do-do you want me to stop?" Dexter forced those words out, not knowing how he was going to manage such a feat right then.

Debra held his gaze with such seriousness that Dexter became afraid that she was going to end this madness. She gave a little shake of her head. "Fuck, no," she admitted helplessly.

Dexter gave a groan of relief, capturing her mouth with his own, knowing he was going to be granted relief from this agony, even if it guaranteed a new kind of agony in its place. He just didn't give a fuck.

**oooOOOOooo**

"Legally, sexual harassment is a violation of Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 – it is a form of a sexual discrimination."

The drone of the speaker's voice cut through Dexter's vivid memories of the weekend. He blinked as a bead of sweat trailed down his back, under his shirt as he and the rest of the department sat through the mandated seminar.

"The act applies to a workplace where more than 15 employees work; this includes local, state, and federal workplaces as well as private sector businesses..."

He moved restlessly in his seat, trying to concentrate on the woman's words but finding himself helplessly distracted by thoughts of another woman altogether.

Sitting next to him was Masuka, who chose that moment to lean over and whisper to him. "Is it just me or is our lecturer not wearing any panties?"

Dexter grimaced. "I think you're missing the point of these seminars, Masuka."

"I'm serious," he said, still eyeing off the attractive brunette who was giving the talk on sexual harassment and the law. "I've got a theory. Want to hear it?"

"No."

Masuka was undaunted. "I think they intentionally send us hot chicks to give these talks and see which one of us gets boners. They're trying to screw us." He nudged Dexter. "And mission accomplished. Check it out, dude." Masuka leaned back in his chair and waved a hand at his lap.

Dexter's expression didn't change. "Did you just invite me to look at your erection?" he asked dryly. "Because I think we covered that stuff in the first hour."

_And besides, I think I could give you a run for your money in that area. _

Dexter moved a little uncomfortably in his seat, the material of his pants moving against his half-erect penis and trying to remind the guy this wasn't the time or the place and there probably never should be when it came to Debra.

"Ah, come on, man," said Masuka, looking slightly embarrassed, "you know what I mean. Look at her." He tilted his head towards the shapely form of their educator. "You tell me you wouldn't want to bend that over the nearest flat surface and give her the harassing of her life."

Dexter stared at the other man, expression eager for Dexter to join in on his little fantasies. For a moment he envied Masuka's simple perversions. If only his were so uncomplicated. "There's real poetry in your soul, isn't there, Masuka?" he said flatly.

"Hey, I'm not apologising for natural body urges," said an unrepentant Masuka. "I'm just being honest and upfront. Women love that kind of shit."

Dexter returned his attention back to the lecturer. "If you say so," he said dully.

"_Come back upstairs." _

"_Why?" _

"_Because I don't want to fuck you up against a wall in a parking garage." _

"_But you do want to fuck me?" _

"_Fuck, yes." _

Dexter squirmed in his chair a little as he remembered the state his burst of honesty had gotten them both into. The heavy petting had continued for several delicious moments after that and Dexter had begun to worry that he wasn't going to be able to make it back to his apartment after all. But then the issue became a moot one when Mrs. Rodriguez from 3B had driven into the car park. He and Debra had separated quickly and then been forced into five minutes of polite conversation with his neighbour as she commented on the weather, the upcoming elections and how she was expecting a phone call from her grandson any day now. Oh, and how the two of them looked a little flushed and she hoped they weren't about to come down with something. In the middle of it all, Debra had made some kind of mumbled excuse and driven off, leaving a decidedly deflated Dexter to help the elderly woman with her bags of groceries. In the end, Dexter had convinced himself it had been a lucky escape, even though it hadn't felt like it at the time. He hadn't tried to contact Debra the following day, just let things cool off a little so they both could gain some perspective. Now that the weekend was over though, Dexter wasn't sure if he'd gained much more other than fresh confusion.

In the end, what he'd said to Debra in his outburst was true, he wanted everything and nothing from her. Knowing Debra was just walking around, loving him, giving her loyalty and trust in him was enough most days. But then there were other days when Dexter felt the need to consume every part of his sister and internalise each one of her emotions as his own. He needed to feel that piece of humanity beating away in his chest otherwise he couldn't find his next breath. It was random, selfish and up until now, completely uncontrollable. Dexter's jaw hardened. He had to believe there was a way he could contain these feelings so they weren't so destructive to his and Debra's relationship. Dexter just didn't know what that way was. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand distractedly as he contemplated his options.

Maybe there was one person who would know what that way was...


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N****: Yay, I've gotten another chapter done before work today. Happy dance time. :D **

**Now, before we go onto this chapter, I just wanted to ponder the actual show for a little bit, seeing as we're only 2 episodes away from the very last of Dexter ever. I'm going to tell you what I think is going to happen, based on how the writing has been laying things out vs how I'd personally like to see it end. So, these aren't spoilers, just my take on things and I guess we'll see how close I was in two weeks time. ;) **

**I feel like that as soon as Hannah returned to the show, the s/l arc took an abrupt change in direction, like all the complexity they'd set up between Deb and Dexter and been exploring in the last two seasons and first half of S8 was dropped. Or, at the very least, kind of just an afterthought to support the Hexter (?do they have a portmanteau) relationship. I really hope I'm wrong about how this is all going to turn out, but with the heavy pimping of Dexter's love for Hannah and Harrison's adoration of her also (did they even have any scenes together the first time round? I suppose they did but I didn't get that Harrison was as caught up in Hannah that time as he is being depicted as being now). Anyways, my gut is telling me that Saxon is going to kill Deb and then Hexter and Harrison will leave for Argentina. I actually think they're going to give Dexter a happy ever after and a clean slate. Of course, it'd cost him his sister, but that actually is part of the clean slate and not feeling guilty about leaving Deb behind. **

**I just feel like Deb has been painted into a corner with how she's sacrificed so much to protect Dexter and it's all closing in on her. If Dexter goes down, Deb's going to go down. Like I said, I really hope it doesn't pan out that way because on the surface at least, it all feels like a bit of a cop out to me. I suppose it depends on how it's played out, but yeah, I've got a bad feeling about this. LOL **

**As for what I think is a fitting end for Dexter... well, I'd see both Dex and Deb being killed one way or the other. Deb being killed by Saxon, Dex looking to avenge her death and ending up with both Saxon and himself being killed. It all comes out about everything and Hannah ends up back in prison. Meanwhile, Harrison is now an orphan and I'd like to see Angel step up and look to adopt him, just like Harry adopted an orphaned Dexter. And the very last scene would be us seeing Harrison killing a hamster or something, leaving us knowing that the cycle was about to repeat itself all over again... close to black. **

**I know, a bit dark, but it's Dexter, it's not meant to be rainbows and butterflies. I guess we'll all know soon enough where they go with this thing. Anyways, whatever happens, it's been a great ride and I've certainly had fun delving into the fanfic world with this show. :D **

**And speaking of such, why don't I just let you get on with reading the chapter now, seeing as you've so politely sat through my ramblings. LOL **

**Hope you enjoy...**

**Chapter FOURTEEN**

"Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you."  
~Stephanie Klein

_Straight Up and Dirty: A Memoir_

Dexter sat in his car, across from Evelyn Vogel's house and rehearsed how he was going to casually sound the woman out about Debra. He knew Debra was still seeing the psychiatrist regularly and Dexter felt like he needed some kind of gauge of where his sister was at before attempting to see her. Running his hand through his hair, Dexter felt a flash of frustration at how uncertain he'd become when it came to all things Debra Morgan. And it wasn't just that he never seemed to know how Debra was going to be with him anymore but more so that Dexter didn't know how he was going to react to her. Two days ago they'd been enjoying a sweet family day out, laughing together and just being as normal as they knew how. Dexter had his sister back and all was right with the world. But then that moment of sexual heat had cropped up between them and all Dexter had been able to think about was being with the woman, Debra, not the sister. How was Debra meant to know how to go on with this relationship when he couldn't even figure out what he wanted it to be? His lips thinned in frustrated anxiety.

_We're still drowning each other. We've managed a few breaths of air but then it's back to sinking under those dark waters. _

Dexter knew this was all his fault and he knew he had to be the one to fix this. Debra didn't deserve his confusion and mixed messages. She deserved so much better than that and Dexter was determined to work out a way to give her just that. He climbed out of his car, locked it and quickly crossed the road to Vogel's house. Dexter knocked a few times, even calling out Dr Vogel's name but there was no response.

_I should have called before I came by. It was stupid to take a chance but then stupid chances are all I seem to do these days. _

His cell phone rang and Dexter quickly pulled it from his pocket to answer. "Yes?"

"Dexter, where are you?" asked Angel. "Lunch is almost over and we've got the rest of the seminar to sit through."

"Harrison's school called," lied Dexter automatically. "Sorry, I won't be able to make it back in time."

Angel sighed. "I guess that's okay. I mean, I don't think you were the target of this sexual harassment lock down anyways. Meanwhile Masuka is trying to ask the woman out on a date." He gave a grunt. "I gotta stop him before he makes us have to sit through a whole week of this waste of time."

"Good luck," said Dexter and hung up.

_Okay, a free afternoon, what am I going to do with that? _

Dexter eyed the door in front of him, annoyed that he hadn't been able to speak to Vogel about Debra. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a thought occurring to him.

_But then maybe I don't need to actually speak to Vogel at all. _

Dexter walked over to where he knew the older woman kept her spare key and retrieved it, using it to gain entrance into her house. He looked around, calling out one more time to make sure he was alone. "Dr Vogel?" There was still no reply.

_Even if she turns up I'll just say I was checking up on her because of Yates still being on the loose._

That was another thing which was irritating Dexter. He'd been trying to hunt down Yates ever since the day of the kidnapping but to no avail. There was always the possibility that the guy had left town for good but Dexter wasn't willing to gamble with his family's safety to leave such a thing to chance. Besides, the guy deserved to die after what he'd done to Debra and all those other women. It was unfinished business and the knowledge unsettled Dexter. To have Yates out in the ethers, the threat of him reappearing at any moment, was an unacceptable one.

_One problem at a time. _

Dexter walked over to where Vogel's laptop was sitting on her desk. He quickly sat down at the desk and opened up the laptop. The computer was still on and Dexter shook his head at how lax the older woman was with her cyber-security. Fortunately it served his purposes today. I few clicks at different folders on the desktop had Dexter into Vogel's patient files. He found Debra's easily. The mouse hovered over the icon for a moment.

_What am I doing? This is such an invasion of privacy. _

Dexter's brow wrinkled as he realised how desperate he'd become when it came to Debra. He just needed to get control of this situation and part of that was knowing where Debra was at. Had Debra already told Vogel about their trysts? Dexter hoped not, but he had to confess, he'd have been interested to know what Vogel would have made of such things. He gave a grunt of annoyance over how many unanswered questions were floating around in his head. Dexter didn't think about it anymore, he just clicked on the file icon with Debra's name on it. Neatly typed out notes of Vogel's sessions with the younger Morgan child filled the screen. Dexter hastily skimmed through them, looking for the latest entries.

"_...Debra continues to struggle with feelings of guilt over her involvement in LaGuerta's death. Her love for her brother and need to protect him and their relationship continues to cause Debra to be in conflict between her understanding of her own moral centre and what she comprehends as her emotions. Whilst in recent times Debra had started to reconcile the events of the past with who she wants to define herself as a person in the present, I'm increasingly concerned that she is showing herself to be unwilling to incorporate the full ramifications of her pregnancy into that growth..." _

Dexter blinked, the words on the page suddenly not making sense to him. He quickly went back a sentence.

"_...I'm increasingly concerned that she is showing herself to be unwilling to incorporate the full ramifications of her pregnancy into that growth..." _

Dexter felt his heart lurch in his chest, painfully so. There was a sudden ringing in his ears followed by the sound of blood thundering through his veins.

_Deb's pregnant? No, it can't be. I'd know... wouldn't I?_

Dexter bent over the computer screen, frantically reading on to find the answers to the many questions crowding his head.

"_...Whilst I've advised Debra to take time to consider all of her options with this unplanned pregnancy, I fear she has allowed herself to feel she has only one. It's only been a week since discovering her pregnancy and I believe Debra to still be in shock. Obviously with the father of the child already being deceased..."_

_Deceased? _

Dexter's mind raced, trying to put all the pieces together. There was only one person that could be, given the timing – Andrew Briggs. Dexter put a shaky hand to his head as the implications of that sank in.

_I've killed the father of my unborn nephew or niece. _

Dexter closed his eyes.

_Fuck. _

He forced his eyes open again, needing to know the whole story now. Needing to know Debra didn't hate him for this new injustice he'd visited upon her.

"_...the father of the child already being deceased, this places more pressure on Debra and as she has always undervalued herself and her abilities, it's easy to understand why she would look at the thought of impending motherhood as just something else for her to fail at. Also, her primary bent will always be towards protecting Dexter and their relationship. The child of one of Dexter's victims walking around in their lives would be a constant reminder of the great many compromises Debra has to make to keep her brother in her life. The strain of this over the coming years could undeniably eat away at the foundations of their relationship, something both Debra and Dexter are at near fanatical levels to protect. If Debra terminates this pregnancy to protect her relationship with Dexter, I fear the exact opposite will happen. The breakdown of the bond the siblings share would have a hugely destabilising effect in their lives..."_

Dexter kept reading, but it was just more musings about Debra and the consequences of her actions if she didn't fully come to terms with her pregnancy. He slumped back in the chair, head reeling.

_Debra's pregnant_.

Suddenly that extended sickness made sense. Dexter cursed himself for not having even considered the possibility. Debra had been on a self-destructive bender the whole time with Briggs. Drowning her pain and guilt in a haze of drugs, alcohol and sex, it was pretty easy to see how birth control might have been low on her list of concerns. Dexter lifted his hand and covered his face. "Deb," he said raggedly, thinking of his sister being alone through all of this and how terrified she must be. "Deb."

**oooOOOOooo**

Debra moved a little on the padded table she was sitting up on, feet dangling over the edge. Her white, backless gown under which she was completely naked, made her feel vulnerable and exposed. She gripped the edge of the procedure bed and told herself it was all going to be over soon.

A middle-aged African American woman walked into the room and smiled pleasantly at her. "Hello, Ms Morgan, I'm Dr Fields, I'll be performing your procedure today."

Debra gave a short nod of her head. "Hi," she said tersely, just wanting this over and done with already.

The woman took a seat on a stool in front of her and started to look at the clip board full of notes she'd walked in with. "Now, I'm just confirming what is happening today for you. You're fifteen weeks, which means we are unable to offer you a medical termination. Instead we'll be performing a surgical termination." She looked up from her notes. "You haven't eaten today?"

"No," said Debra hoarsely.

"It's alright to be nervous," soothed the doctor. "But this procedure will be over very quickly. You know that our clinic offers counselling post procedure as some women can find they have emotional issues following an experience like this."

Debra moved restlessly on the table. "Okay, yeah, whatever. Can we just do this already?"

"Did you bring someone with you?" asked Dr Fields. "You won't be able to drive for 24 hours after the procedure."

"I caught a taxi," said a resolute Debra.

"But you came alone?"

Her jaw hardened. "So, what of it?"

The doctor's manner remained quietly understanding. "It's just that many women find it helpful to someone to be released to-"

"Yeah, well, I'm not most women," said Debra harshly. "Now, can we fucking do this or what?" The other woman arched an eyebrow at her tone and Debra grimaced. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't meant to be rude. I just-I just want this to be over with, you know?"

"I understand," said the doctor sympathetically. "I just don't want you to underestimate the impact something like this may have on you, once it's over. Many women are blind-sided by feelings of guilt and self-loathing after something like this."

Debra's lips quirked in a humourless smile. "Don't worry, I've already got the self-loathing thing covered. I'm an expert."

"Just know there are options to bottling this all up," said the doctor kindly. "It's important you work through all of your emotions about what you're doing. You have a right to choose what happens to your body. You shouldn't ever feel guilty about that."

Debra looked away and rubbed her arm with a cold hand. "I'm not going to feel guilty," she said dully. "I've used up all my guilt for my other mistakes."

The doctor handed her the clip board. "If you're sure, then I just need you to sign these consent forms and we can start."

Debra took the offered clipboard and picked up the attached pen. A sticker with 'Sign Here' printed on it was at the bottom of the form. Debra didn't even bother reading through all the disclaimers, she just signed and handed the paperwork back to the doctor.

"Lie back down and I'll be back shortly and we can get underway." Dr Fields stood up. "Just try and relax and this will be over soon, Ms Morgan."

"Not soon enough," muttered Debra as she swung her legs up onto the table and lay back down. She stared up at sterile white ceiling trying to think about nothing. Unbidden Dexter's face flashed before her eyes and it was all Debra could do not to groan aloud. She didn't want him here, not even in her head. This was something she had to do to protect them all. There was no way Debra could accept herself as being capable of being any kind of mother. She was a fuck up, always had been, always would be. No child deserved to be lumbered with that and with Dexter as a father, what chance would this kid have anyway? It was the only way. Debra lay there, strengthening her resolve and just wanting this day to be over already.

**oooOOOOooo**

"Deb?" Dexter walked into Debra's beachside unit and looked around.

"She's out of town, remember?" came Harry's voice from behind him.

"I know," said Dexter as he walked into the kitchen. "At least, that's what she told me. Who knows if that was true or not."

Harry followed Dexter into the small kitchen. "You're mad at her?"

"No," said Dexter shortly, "I'm not mad at Deb." He grimaced and faced Harry. "I just don't like it when she keeps secrets from me." After the first wave of shock had worn off, all Dexter could think about was seeing Debra, being with her and making sure she was alright. On the way over to her unit, Dexter couldn't help but turn over the events of the weekend in his head. Debra had known she was pregnant then and hadn't told him. The rational part of Dexter completely understood why but he couldn't completely drown out that less reasonable little voice in his head.

_I hate it when she hides from me. _

Harry arched an eyebrow. "That's just a little bit hypocritical coming from you, isn't it, son? When it comes to keeping secrets-"

"I know," said Dexter in agitation. "I know I'm being unreasonable but Deb is pregnant-" He was forced to stop and swallow hard, the whole concept still hard to comprehend. "She shouldn't be going through this alone." Dexter scowled. "Deb always used to come to me with her problems. Now I feel like I'm always playing catch up."

"Do you understand why she wouldn't want to share this particular event in her life with you?" asked Harry dryly. "You killed the father of Deb's unborn child."

"I was trying to protect her," Dexter ground out. "She didn't belong with Briggs. He was a junkie loser and a thief. Deb deserves so much better than that."

"Did she deserve to see you kill the guy in front of her eyes?"

Dexter scowled. "He forced my hand. I had to protect myself."

"You may see it that way, but maybe Debra doesn't. You two have never really talked about it."

"There was nothing to say," said Dexter shortly.

"Maybe there is now," observed Harry.

"But everything has been fine with Deb and me," said Dexter in anguish. "Vogel's notes said Deb found out last week that she was pregnant with Brigg's child. If she was upset with me over the whole thing, why has she been acting so normal around me?"

"Maybe because that's what it was, an act," suggested Harry.

"No," said Dexter sharply, "I know when Deb isn't being straight with me."

"Of course you do, isn't that why you've violated both Dr Vogel and your sister's privacy today? You know something isn't right with Debra. That's why you're here."

"Yes, but not that," said Dexter, trying to order his thoughts. "I was worried about-about-"

"About the fact you two almost had sex again?" supplied Harry. His tone became disapproving. "What are you doing, Dexter? You can't keep playing with Debra's emotions like this."

"Don't you think I know that," snapped Dexter. He stalked out into the living room. "And that isn't my intention. I don't want to feel this way about Deb. She's my sister!"

Harry stayed in the kitchen but continued to talk. "And you're her brother but ever since she walked in on you killing Travis you've both become more than that to each other." He sighed heavily. "Maybe you two always were. I don't know." Harry looked away. "It's such a mess."

"Your pep talks are losing their peppiness," noted Dexter dourly.

"It's pretty hard to put a positive spin on this one, son," noted Harry truthfully. "I'm worried about your sister."

"And you don't think I am?" asked an aggrieved Dexter. "What if Vogel is right and Debra is going to end this pregnancy because she wants to protect our relationship? Deb will end up hating me for that."

"This isn't about you, Dexter. This is about Debra."

"But that's the point," said Dexter tersely, "we're not separate entities anymore. What affects one of us, affects the other. We're wrapped around each other now."

_Hopelessly entwined. _

His gaze was caught by an appointment card lying on the coffee table. Dexter bent over and picked it up. 'Women's Health Clinic' was emblazoned on the card with and date and time, today's date and 1pm. Still sitting on the coffee table was a folded up piece of paper. Dexter quickly retrieved it and skimmed the page over. It was a list of instructions how to prepare for a surgical termination of a pregnancy. All the blood drained from Dexter's face as he realised why Debra had said she was going to be 'out of town' for the next couple of days. "She's having an abortion," he rasped. "Today."

"That's Debra's right to choose, Dex," said Harry, tone serious.

"I know that," said Dexter hoarsely, "but Deb shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

_And I know that she is, punishing herself with this self-inflicted exile. _

"If Debra wanted you there, she'd have said so," argued Harry.

"No, she wouldn't have," disagreed Dexter stubbornly. "I can't just abandon her to do this by herself." He glanced at his watch, seeing that it was already a quarter past one. Dexter's heart skipped a beat as he started towards the door.

"Dexter," warned Harry, following him out, "you can't stop Debra from doing this."

"That isn't what I was going to do," said Dexter, not slowing his pace as he crossed the road to his car.

"Then what are you going to do?" called out Harry from behind him.

Dexter hesitated, his hand on car door now. He stared at his own reflection in the glass. "Deb needs me."

Harry's reflection joined Dexter's in the glass of the door. "Is that true or do you just want it to be true?"

_Harry's right, I don't really know what Deb is thinking or feeling about all of this. I only know this desperate feeling inside of me won't go away until I'm with her again. _

Dexter was afraid of what going through something like this by herself would do to Debra. She was alone and vulnerable and Dexter could no more stand by and let that play out then he could when she'd been taken by Yates. He yanked open the car door and climbed in, trying to ignore the worried look on Harry's face.

"What makes you so sure you can offer Debra what she needs right now?" Harry quizzed him sternly.

Dexter turned his head, a determined expression on his face. "What makes you so sure I can't?"

"Emotions aren't your strong point, Dexter," pointed out Harry in concern. "You're out of your depth."

Dexter turned the key in the ignition. "Just as well I'm a good swimmer then." With that he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, hoping some of that bravado would hang around for when he actually saw Debra because as of that moment, he didn't know what he was going to say or do when he saw her again.

_Like always... _


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N****: Well, here we are, the first official chapter of my story after Dexter, the show is no more. I'm just posting this quickly before I head off to work, so I'll save my thoughts on the finale for another day. I thought it had its good and bad points but at least the ending wasn't a HEA for Dexter. As much as I love him, that wouldn't have been right to me. **

**Anyways, this chapter, by way of a warning, is very angsty. I don't know if it'll help you with your Debster grief per se but at least you know there are more chapters to come, so that is always a good thing, right? **

**Hope you 'enjoy'...**

**Chapter FIFTEEN**

"We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us."

~Ken Levine~

Dexter forced himself to slow his pace as he walked into the Health Clinic after having practically bolted from the car. This sense of urgency to get to Debra wasn't abating. He smiled at the woman behind the counter. "Hello, I'm Dexter Morgan. I'm here to pick up my sister, Debra Morgan."

"Just one minute, sir," replied the woman as she checked the list in front of her. She looked back up at Dexter. "Ms Morgan was released twenty minutes ago."

"Oh," said Dexter unevenly, "I was caught in traffic. I was meant to be here."

_I was meant to be here. _

The woman's expression was regretfully sympathetic. "I'm sorry, sir. I believe she called a taxi."

Dexter nodded. "Ah, right, okay, thank you for your help." He turned around and headed back out into the Miami afternoon sunlight. Dexter looked up at the bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds.

_I'm too late._

Dexter wasn't exactly sure what he'd hoped to accomplish by seeing Debra before the termination. It wasn't like he had any kind of right to talk her out of it, even if he wanted to, which he didn't even know if he had an opinion on yet. It was all happening too quickly to process properly. Dexter pulled out his cell phone and tried dialling Debra's number yet again as he walked slowly back to his car. He'd tried on the way over and gotten the same straight to message bank response. Giving up, Dexter hung up as he arrived at his car. He leant back against the passenger door heavily, trying to work out his next move. Surely Debra would be heading home now. It's not like they'd advise you to go to the gym or hit the shops after something like that.

_Deb will probably want to go straight to bed. Will I accomplish anything by going around now? _

Dexter stuck his hands in his pockets and pondered the question, trying to weigh up his own need to see his sister against what she might be going through right now. Empathy was the trickiest of all emotions for Dexter to manage. It wasn't always clear to him what other people might feel about a lot of things. People could be confusing like that. He knew Debra would be unhappy but he just didn't know what kind of unhappy – mad, sad, guilty – the list went on and on. Dexter gave up trying to predict Debra's current state of being, knowing he'd have to find out for himself. He pushed himself away from leaning on the car and that's when he noticed a familiar brunette head of hair across the road in the park, sitting on a park bench with her back to him.

_Deb._

Dexter felt a light, nervous sweat break out his brow but was already crossing the road to get to her, not even hesitating. He approached her from behind, footsteps muffled on the carefully manicured grass. Debra was sitting on the park bench, under a tree and looking out at a small lake where ducks were happily gliding around on the water.

_Deb seems so serene sitting there. Only I know she isn't. She can't be._

Dexter rubbed a sweaty palm against his thigh and stepped around to stand in front of the bench. Debra flicked an uninterested look at him and then did a double take when she saw who it was.

"Fuck, Dex!" she exclaimed in shock. Debra sat up straighter, looking at him in angry confusion. "What-how the fuck did you know where I was?"

Dexter just told the truth. "I checked through Dr Vogel's notes on you and then went to your house and found the appointment card."

"Jesus, Dexter," said Debra harshly, "don't you have _any_ fucking boundaries when it comes to me?"

Dexter thought about that briefly. "No," he admitted unhappily, "it doesn't seem like I do."

Debra shook her head and looked away. "You are fucking unbelievable."

"Are-are you alright?" asked Dexter hesitantly.

Debra hunched over, elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. "I am so fucking sick of you always asking me that. It's all you ever seem to say to me."

_I can't argue with that. Deb seems to be lurching from one crisis to another these days and it's all my fault. _

"I worry about you," said Dexter unevenly. "I can't help it." He cautiously took a seat beside her. "There's a lot of things I can't help when it comes to you."

Debra straightened up and turned her face away from him. "No fucking shit," she said bitterly.

"I want to be here for you," said Dexter in concern.

"That's my brother, folks," said Debra acerbically, "always riding in at the last moment to save the day."

"Deb, I know this must be incredibly hard for you and you must feel really alone but you're not," said Dexter sincerely. "I'm here for you and I get why you may not want me around-"

Debra glared at him. "And why might that be, Dexter?"

"Well, because I killed Andrew Briggs," said Dexter awkwardly. "You know, the father of your baby-"

"I fucking know who Andrew Briggs is," said Debra sharply.

Dexter ploughed on, despite the cold reception he was getting from Debra. "I want to help, Deb. Just tell me how to help."

She stared ahead at the ducks on the manmade lake. "Take me home," Debra ordered him dully. "I called a cab but didn't use it." She looked up into the leafy foliage above them. "I just wanted to sit for a bit."

"Of course," said Dexter quickly, grateful to have a function to perform. He stood up and awkwardly moved to help Debra to stand.

She brushed off his help. "Where's your car?" Dexter inclined his head towards his car across the road and Debra immediately set off towards it.

The trip to her unit was done in complete silence. Debra sat slumped in the passenger seat, staring out of the window. Dexter kept sending her furtive glances, checking out her stony profile and trying to gauge what was going through her head. It was useless, Debra gave nothing away and the silence between them was deafening by the time they arrived at her place. Debra got out of the car as soon as it came to a stop and headed inside. She didn't invite him in but then she didn't tell him to get lost, so Dexter decided to take that as a kind of permission to follow. Permission by omission. He walked into Debra's unit to see her already sitting on the sofa, just staring blankly ahead. Dexter frowned at her stillness. It was so not Debra. "Can I get you anything?" he asked, hovering nervously by the door and needing something to do. "Do you need anything?"

Debra turned to look at him, her expression hard. "And what do you think you could get me that would be of any use right now, Dexter?" she asked sharply.

He lifted a shoulder and grimaced. "I don't know. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Well, I'm not fucking okay," said Debra bitterly. "And I'm beginning to think I never will be again. Every time I think I might be clawing my way out of my shithole life, something else happens and pushes me back under all that crap."

Dexter took a seat across from her and tried to choose his words carefully. "It won't always be like that, Deb. I know today was hard but it's over now."

"It's never going to be fucking over," said Debra darkly. She suddenly fixed him with a hard look. "Do you think I did the right thing?"

Dexter had been dreading this question because he just didn't have an answer. "I think I want you to be happy," he said slowly. "I'll support anything which makes you happy."

Debra's eyes narrowed. "Really?" she challenged him. "Because Andrew fucking Briggs made me happy and you weren't real fucking supportive of that relationship."

Dexter's lips tightened. "Andrew fucking Briggs made you numb," he threw back at her, unable to stop the harshness in his voice. Dexter looked away, trying to gather his emotions back under control. He missed the days when that never used to be a problem for him.

"What's wrong with numb?" she shot back at him angrily.

_That's a good question. My whole life I've been numb to everyone around me. I envied people and their feelings, wanted to know what it was like, to be able to fit in. Somewhere along the line I got my wish and now I miss that numbness. Can I blame Deb for wanting the same thing? _

"It's not who you are," said Dexter quietly. "You were made to feel things deeply. You've always engaged totally in life around you. It makes you who you are, Deb."

"Yeah," said agreed a sarcastic Debra, "a fuck up."

"You did what you thought you had to do," said Dexter seriously. "No one can tell you if that was right or wrong. Briggs is dead and I know that is my-"

"Why the fuck do you keep going on about Andrew Briggs?" Debra interrupted him sharply.

Dexter was caught a little off-guard. "Well, because he was the father. In Vogel's notes-"

"Jesus, Dexter," said Debra coldly, "do you believe everything you read?"

Dexter froze, his heart skipping a beat. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"What the fuck do you think I'm saying?" she shot back at him, almost seeming to want to pick a fight. "Briggs wasn't the baby's father. Vogel just assumed and it was a whole fuck of a lot easier than telling her the truth."

"The-the truth?" stammered Dexter. His mouth was suddenly dry and the blood was pounding in ears. He knew what was coming next but wasn't ready to accept it.

"That I was knocked up by my brother," said Debra with feigned blitheness. She gave a humourless laugh. "Fuck, we're a Jerry Springer special, Dexter. Do you think they'll give us a free t-shirt?"

The numbness Dexter had been coveting abruptly settled on Dexter as he stared at her blankly. "But-but we used protection," he reminded her hoarsely.

She gave him a fake sweet smile. "Yeah, I know. It's a fucking miracle." Debra lifted a hand and pumped the air in mocking triumph. "Yay us!"

"That baby couldn't have been mine," Dexter protested, still reeling.

"Well, it was," said Debra flatly.

Dexter shook his head, willing it not to be true. "How could you know for sure? I mean, it was only a couple of weeks apart between Briggs and me and-"

"Thank for reminding me I'm a whore," shot back Debra angrily.

"That's not what I was saying," said Dexter sharply. "I'm just saying how can you be sure?"

"Because I can fucking count," snapped Debra. "Do you want me to step you through my menstrual cycle to prove it? I know the baby was yours, there was no way it could have been Briggs."

Dexter slumped back in his chair as though she'd punched him, overwhelmed by this latest revelation.

_I didn't even consider the possibility of this baby being mine. Why is that? _

Dexter had the answer to his own question.

_Because I didn't want to. It was complicated enough thinking it was Briggs' but to know that Deb is pregnant with my child..._

Dexter scowled, reality settling in.

_Was pregnant. _

He couldn't stop his gaze going to Debra's stomach.

_My child was in there, but now it isn't. _

The blessed numbness left Dexter and he was assaulted by a torrent of emotions which tumbled over the top of one another, all screaming to be heard. "You should have told me," he said hoarsely.

Debra's chin came up, her eyes full of defiance. "Why? What would you have done?"

"I don't know," said Dexter, his voice starting to get louder as his emotions spilled out, "but you should have told me! I had a stake in that pregnancy too."

"Wow, look at you, all about father's rights all of a sudden," said Debra mockingly. "You weren't that self-righteous when you thought the baby was Briggs."

"Because Briggs is dead!" snapped Dexter. "And I'm not! You can't just go and make a decision like that without talking to me first. It's not right!"

Debra opened her eyes wide in mock surprise. "Oh, am I hearing this right? I'm getting a morality lecture from Dexter fucking Morgan. Jesus, Dexter, are you fucking kidding me with this shit?"

Dexter leaned forward in his chair, face dark with his own anger. "You think I wouldn't have wanted a say in the fate of my own child? What the fuck gives you the right to make that decision for both of us?" Anger had won the race to take hold of Dexter first. Anger was easy, with its purity and simple reasoning abilities.

And Debra, for her part, seemed intent on fanning that fire. "It's my body, Dexter," she said, almost seeming to welcome his anger. "You don't get to say shit about what I do with my body."

"I had a stake in this!" Dexter yelled at her. "You had no right to cut me out of this whole thing."

"Admit it, Dex," Debra goaded him, "this self-righteous indignation is just all a bullshit act. You're glad this has all been taken care of and you don't have to worry about it anymore." Her tone became bitter. "And for once, it's not you with the blood on your hands, it's me."

"It didn't have to be this way!"

"So what, I'd have the baby and then you, me and Harrison, we'd all be this cute little family? Is that how you see it going down? Harrison gets to be both a brother and an uncle to little Dexter junior. How fucking special would that be? He's going to have one fucking mess of a family tree when he has to draw it at school one day."

"I don't know what I would have wanted," bit out Dexter, face flushed with anger, "but you didn't give me a chance to even figure that out." He stood up, unable to sit still any longer. "I can't believe you did this to me, Debra."

"Oh yes," she shot back mockingly, "and this is all about you, right?"

"This was about _us_," ground out Dexter, his anger all but overtaking him now. "We should have made this decision together because we made that child together." He couldn't look at her anymore. Dexter felt deeply betrayed that Debra had kept something so important from him. It felt like she had every last little piece of him and yet she held back parts of herself. The realisation cut Dexter to the bone and he hung onto his anger, needing it to get him out of this place without breaking down. He turned on his heel and stalked towards the door. "I need some time to deal with this," he bit out, not looking back at her.

"Dexter."

Dexter stopped with his hand on the doorknob but still refused to turnaround at the sound of his name on Debra's lips. "I can't be around you right now. I need to think, get this straight in my head."

"Dex." This time Debra's voice broke over his name and there was the sound of genuine fear.

Dexter wanted to ignore her cry but it was impossible. Debra always knew how to push his buttons. Why wouldn't she? After all, she'd installed them all. He turned around, still not ready to forgive and forget. "Deb, I need-" The words died on his lips at the sight which greeted him. Debra was still sitting on the sofa but now there was a growing pool of blood seeping through the pants material covering her lap.

She was looking up at him with wide, stricken eyes. "D-Dex," she rasped again, seemingly frozen to the spot.

"Deb," said Dexter in horror, moving immediately towards her, "don't move." He rushed to her side, falling to his knees. "It's okay, you're going to be okay." Panic-stricken fingers fumbled for his phone. "I'm calling the clinic. Did they say this could happen? Do I have to take you back in there or do I take you straight to a hospital?"

Debra seemed to be in shock as she shook her head. "N-no."

"No to which one?" asked Dexter urgently. "The hospital or the clinic?" The blood stain was getting larger and Dexter could feel fresh panic welling up inside of him. They didn't have time to waste discussing this. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, they'll be the better equipped. What was the name of your doctor at the clinic so I can have them meet us there?"

Debra's face was too pale as she shook her head again. "No clinic doctor."

"They're experienced in this kind of thing," Dexter argued with her hastily. "Post-op complications is something they'd have to deal with regularly and this bleeding-"

"I didn't have the procedure," Debra interrupted him hoarsely. She looked down at her lap. "I-I think I'm miscarrying."

Dexter was having trouble with his comprehension again. "Wh-what?"

Debra clutched at his arm, holding on so tightly it hurt. At least it would have hurt if Dexter wasn't in so much shock. "Please, Dexter, please help me," said Debra in desperation.

_Debra is still pregnant with my child. _

Dexter could barely move from the impact of yet another shock. His mind went blank from the enormity of that realisation until Debra's grip on his arm tightened and she gave a strangled yelp of pain, doubling over. Dexter was galvanised into action. The cavalcade of thoughts and feelings Dexter had just been dealing with were abruptly gone and there was only a single thought in his head.

_Save her. _

Dexter scooped up Debra in his arms and ran for the door, not having time to wait for an ambulance. He had to get to the hospital before Debra bled to death. All the anger was gone, replaced by a driving fear of losing her forever. Dexter carefully placed the groaning Debra into the front seat of his car and then he was racing around to the driver's side and jumping in. "It's going to be alright, Deb," he promised her, hoping he didn't sound as anxious to her as he did to himself. "Everything is going to be okay." Dexter pulled away from the curb and conscious of the fact he was racing to save all of their lives because life without Debra in his life couldn't be an option, not if it was to be any kind of life at all...

**A/N****: Okay, yes, another cliffhanger and I do feel a bit mean about it considering what we've all been through with the final episode but the muse wants what the muse wants... so all angry complaints should be directed to her at Lou'smusesuxs . ;) I kinda wanted to take Dexter (and you guys) on a bit of a rollercoaster ride with not knowing what Deb had done and then finding out she was pregnant at the last moment, only to face the possibility she won't be for much longer... that seemed like a suitably cruel, Dexter-esque way to go about things. LOL I know you're all fragile right now but hang in there, this story isn't done yet. :D **

**As for the next chapter, I'm getting an invasion of visitors starting tomorrow and it will be impossible to write. I'm sorry, but the earliest update would be next Monday and that is still probably unlikely but I'll do my best. **

**See you then. :D **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N****: Visitors all packed up, gotten back from work and now I've had time to work on the chapter. Yay! **

**Now, just some quick thoughts on the finale of Dexter. Ultimately, I thought it was a very Debster-centric episode. Bottom line, Dexter's fate was wrapped up with Debra's. His life ended when hers did, so in many ways, Deb really was his heart beat. Now that hers has stopped, so has Dexter. He's just frozen in this kind of self-imposed purgatory, cut off from everything that ever made him feel anything. There was a satisfying, Debster specific arch to the finality of all of that for me. They ended up 'together' in a very Dexter way. **

**My main problem with the finale was twofold. The first and most persistent one was Hannah. Having her come back as the ultimate woman of Dexter's dreams who could do no wrong and Harrison loved too was all too neat and simplistic. The whole Hannah/Dexter 'love story' felt like a complete cop out for the complexity of the character of Dexter, and Hannah too, for that matter. She was clearly a plot device to serve the finale and it just rang hollow for me in the end. **

**The other big problem for me was all of the plot holes. Now, I'm willing to suspend disbelief with the best of them. You watch these kinds of shows and that's mandatory but I just thought the last episode was so sloppy with the details that it actually became distracting to me, and took away from some of the powerful emotional stuff being played out. Like, how on earth did Dexter survive that storm? Isn't anyone wondering about the fate of Harrison? Did Elway come back and tell everyone that the kid was with Hannah, thus revealing at least some of Dexter's lies? Was there a manhunt set up to retrieve Harrison from the serial killer? And as for Saxon... umm, why did he never say word one about Dexter and his activities? Dexter dumped him in it, why wouldn't Saxon return the favour, he had plenty of opportunities. And how was Deb going to explain Saxon being tied to that bed if the police had gotten there before the US Marshall? What, he strapped himself in? Or was she going to release him and then try to explain why they were where they were? I don't know, the plot holes kept mounting up and like I said, there were so many of them and they were so big, in the end they pulled focus for me. I don't expect that for a finale of a show which has been running for 8 years. The writers should have been neater and more careful than that IMO. **

**Anyways, that's my take on it, for what it's worth. (which is exactly nothing LOL) **

**Here is the next chappy, let's see what I'm putting these two through next, hmm? Hold tight...**

**Chapter SIXTEEN**

"The world was collapsing,

and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive."  
~Rick Riordan

_The Last Olympian_

Dexter stared sightlessly at the pale wall in front of him, waiting for a doctor to appear and tell him what was happening with Debra. To anyone looking at him they might assume he was numb with shock but Dexter was anything but. In the course of a few short hours he'd found out his sister was pregnant, thought she'd terminated the pregnancy and then found out she hadn't gone through with it and now there was a threat of a miscarriage. Dexter had gone from only having one child, to having two, then one again, then two again and now there was the very real threat it would be back to one as soon as a doctor appeared to give him an update.

_I struggle to deal with one emotion at a time, how am I expected to deal with so many all at once? _

Dexter leaned forward in his unyielding hospital waiting room chair and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders sagged in defeat of being so overwhelmed by everything that had happened. Dexter still couldn't work out how he felt about a baby but he did know how he felt about the idea of losing Debra from his life. It was inconceivable. Dexter wasn't even sure he could exist without her, at least not a Dexter anyone in the rest of his world would recognise. And there was the paradox. No one could spin him around like Debra could, confuse, frustrate and baffle so that he had a hard time knowing which way was up. Sometimes Dexter felt like one of his victims when it came to Debra. She had him tied down onto a table, unable to move or escape as she cut into his flesh and made him bleed, slicing him up into a million pieces. But even in amongst all that flurry of pain and bewilderment, Debra was still his centre.

_Debra's the only home I know, the only one that makes sense to me... even when she brings me nothing but confusion. _

Dexter tried to imagine what a child would do to their already precarious relationship. It was like they were in a leaking boat that they continuously had to bail out buckets of water from to stop from going under completely. Did it really make sense to take on more weight? Were Debra's first instincts right? That they needed to be saved from having to keep another soul afloat in their leaky boat? But then Dexter's thoughts couldn't help but turn to Harrison. His son was the only other person in his life that he couldn't imagine drawing breath without. When Rita had first told him about her pregnancy, Dexter had been terrified, convinced that he had nothing to offer a child. Ironically it was Debra who was best able to reassure him at the time that he did. When they'd both first held baby Harrison, Debra had promised him he was going to be a great dad because he was a great big brother and Dexter had believed her. At least, believed her enough to take it one day at a time until Debra was proven right.

_I am a good father. I shouldn't be, but I am. I could be a good father to another child but is that just me being selfish? Harrison world is under constant threat from mine. If he ever found out the truth about me, his entire life would be destroyed. What right do I have to bring that uncertainty to another human being? _

Dexter's fingers tightened in their grasp of his head.

_If that human being even exists anymore. _

Dexter felt a pang at that thought and tried to understand it. How could you mourn the loss of something you'd only known about for a few hours? Dexter wanted to scream because he didn't have a single answer to any of the myriad of questions swirling around in his head.

"Mr. Morgan? Dexter Morgan?"

Dexter's head snapped up at the sound of his name and he immediately saw the fresh-faced man in the white coat standing in front of him. He quickly stood up. "Ah, yes, that's me. Is everything okay? Is D-Deb-?" Dexter stumbled over his sister's name.

"She's resting comfortably," the doctor stepped in easily.

Dexter swallowed hard. "Did she... the baby... is it-?"

"We've stopped the bleeding and mother and child are doing well," the doctor informed him.

Dexter blinked, trying to make sure what he'd heard was right. "Deb didn't lose the baby?"

"No."

Dexter looked away. "But there was so much blood. I thought-"

"I know it can be frightening when these things happen," said the doctor soothingly. "A little bit of blood can go a long way. You'd be surprised."

_No, I wouldn't. There is nothing you can tell me about blood that I don't already know._

But seeing it covering Debra was another thing entirely. It was hard to remain clinically objective when you were watching someone you love suffer. "Can I see her?"

"She's asleep. We'll keep her in overnight, just to be on the safe side."

"Is this going to happen again?" asked Dexter worriedly. "Is this going to be a high risk pregnancy?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't think so. You sister is in excellent health. Debra said she'd only recently found out she was pregnant, so now that she knows, she'll be able to take better care of herself. I've given her a list of peri-natal vitamins to take and some literature on what to avoid while she's pregnant."

"Is it normal for a woman not to know she's pregnant for that long?" Dexter couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right and he needed to make sure this doctor wasn't being complacent.

"Absolutely," said the doctor without hesitation. "A lot of women are very irregular with their periods and in this busy world, it's easy to lose count of the weeks." He put a comforting hand on Dexter's shoulder. "I promise you, your sister's pregnancy is completely normal in every way."

Dexter grimaced.

_If only that were true. _

"A lot of women have bleeds during pregnancy and still go on to deliver perfectly healthy, bouncing babies."

Dexter rubbed his arm, still finding it hard to be reassured. "When it happened, we-we were fighting-"

"You didn't cause this," the doctor cut in. "Sometimes these things just happen." He half-smiled. "Although, if you could keep the sibling bickering down to a minimum for the next few months, that would be good for Debra's blood pressure. It's a little on the high side for my liking but we'll monitor that and make sure it doesn't get out of hand."

Dexter looked away, wondering how they were going to talk about all the things between them without Debra getting upset again. He wondered how he was going to manage it for himself. Remaining cool and collected in Debra's presence seemed to be a thing of the past for him nowadays. "Is it alright if I go and sit with Deb for awhile?" he asked quietly.

"Of course. She'll probably sleep for a good few hours but I'm sure she'll appreciate seeing you here when she does wake up."

_I'm not but I'm going to be there anyway. _

Dexter smiled that fake smile that he used when people were no longer of any use or interest to him any longer. "Thank you for your help, Doctor. Deb and I really appreciate it."

"It's my job," dismissed the doctor easily. "You just make sure that sister of yours takes care of herself and her little passenger. I'd like to think I won't be seeing either of you back here until it's time for bub to put in an appearance."

Dexter kept the smile on his face. "That's the plan."

The doctor pointed down the hall. "Second door on your left."

"Thanks." Dexter started off towards Debra's room.

"Oh, and Dexter," the doctor stalled him, making Dexter turn around, "try to relax about your sister's pregnancy. It's normal to be concerned, but there really is nothing to worry about."

_You're an idiot. _

Dexter's face ached from keeping this inane smile on his face. "I know, thanks again." He turned around and hurried towards Debra's room, eager to escape any more well intentioned but completely uninformed advice from a guy who knew nothing about him or Deb. Dexter slowed down as he walked into the room. Debra was in bed, her face turned away from him. He walked over to her bed and looked down at her. The gentle rise and fall of her chest told Dexter Debra was indeed sleeping peacefully. A drip line ran from the back of her hand to a bag hanging on a stand nearby but apart from that Debra looked completely normal. Dexter slipped his hand into hers and gently squeezed it, remembering what it felt like to see her bleeding and in so much distress just a little while ago. "Stop scaring the hell out of me," he begged her raggedly, his voice barely above a whisper. Without letting go of her hand, Dexter pulled up a chair and took a seat by Debra's bed. He had no idea what he was going to say to her when she woke up but he intended to use this quiet time to work out what he really wanted out of all this.

Dexter hoped Debra was going to sleep for a long time...

**oooOOOOooo**

It was the smell which ultimately woke Debra. She stirred in her bed, eyes flicking open at the smell of barbequed meat. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a blank, white wall but as soon as she turned her head, Debra saw Dexter sitting in a seat next to her bed, shoving a large hamburger roll into his mouth.

He stopped abruptly on seeing her awake. "Deb," he said around a mouthful of meat and bread, "you're awake. How do you feel?"

Sudden memories of that afternoon came back to her, of the pain and the blood and Dexter rushing her to the hospital. She remembered the doctor reassuring her the baby was fine and that there was nothing to worry about. It had taken all of her strength not to tell him he didn't know what he was fucking talking about because there was plenty to fucking worry about when it came to this kid. Instead Debra had let him give her some kind of shot and now she was waking up and realising how hungry she was.

"Fucking starving." Debra stuck her hand out for the pull apart pork roll Dexter was currently enjoying. "Here, give it over."

Dexter handed over the other half of his roll. "Are you sure you should be eating this kind of stuff now?" he asked hesitantly.

Debra's tastebuds were tingling at the smell of all of that rich sauce and tender meat. "Are you sure you want to fucking stop me?" she challenged him before sinking her teeth into the delicious treat. "Fuck me," Debra groaned around her mouthful, not caring she had sauce on her face, "that's good." Her stomach rumbled approvingly at the meal it was about to receive. Debra shoved another mouthful into her mouth and then was forced to mumble her next question. "What time is it?"

"Just after nine," said Dexter, watching her eat. "Do you think you should slow down?"

"No," said Debra dismissively and then frowned. "Nine at night?"

Dexter gave a brief nod of his head. "Yes, you've been asleep for hours."

Debra was still chomping away at the roll as she eyed him uncertainly. "What are you still doing here?"

"Narrowly avoiding having my arm chewed off if the way you're attacking that is anything to go by," said Dexter dryly.

"Fuck off," she said defiantly, "I'm hungry, so sue me."

Dexter held up the other half of the roll. "Want the rest?"

Debra didn't hesitate. "Yes." She took it from him before he could change his mind. Debra shoved another oversized bite into her mouth.

"Jamie is staying over with Harrison," volunteered Dexter. "I didn't want to leave you."

Debra reluctantly slowed her feeding frenzy down. "Ah... thanks for, you know, bringing me here. I was a bit freaked out." She grimaced. "I thought-" Debra put down her sandwich and looked away, finding it hard to complete that sentence.

"I know," said Dexter quietly, "I thought that too but the doctor says the baby is just fine."

Debra's lips thinned, frustrated at her own ambivalence at that information."Dumb little shit doesn't know when to get out when the going is good," she said harshly.

Dexter frowned and sat up straighter in his seat. "Is that what you want?" he asked earnestly. "When you didn't go through with the termination, I thought-"

"You thought what, Dexter?" Debra bit out. "That I was suddenly filled with the glow of impending motherhood? Well, I'm not. You want to know what I want? I want this to all go away, for it not to be happening, that's what I want."

"But it is happening."

Dexter's unrelenting logic in a situation was one of his most frustrating traits. "You think I don't know that?" she snapped. "I'm the one with this thing inside of me, fucking everything up."

"It's not a thing, it's our child," said Dexter quickly.

Debra scowled and cast a quick look at the door, fearful someone might be there and listening in on such a damning statement. "Jesus, Dex, say it a little louder. I'm not sure everyone in the hospital knows just how big a pair of fucking deviants we are."

"We're not deviants," said Dexter hotly. "We're not related, not by blood. It's not illegal."

"But it's immoral," pointed out Debra despairingly.

"Of all the things I feel when I think of this child, immoral is the one thing that doesn't come to mind."

Debra fixed him with a hard look, heart beating unsteadily. "And what is it that you do think and feel about this child?" She stopped abruptly and shook her head, willing herself not to care. "It doesn't matter, not now. This is all going to be over soon. We just have to get through it."

Dexter regarded her steadily and Debra moved a little uncomfortably under such close scrutiny. "Are you considering another termination attempt? What makes you think you can go through with it this time?"

"No," said Debra unevenly, "I'm not going to have an abortion." She dropped the roll onto the bedside table, suddenly not hungry anymore. "I was lying on that table and I was so sure that I was doing the right thing, the only thing that I could do. But when the doctor was getting ready all I could think about was LaGuerta."

"LaGuerta?" repeated Dexter in surprise.

Debra's mouth turned down at the corners over the painful memory. "I took a life, Dex," she said hoarsely. "I killed an innocent woman, took her out of this world before her time."

"You were in an impossible situation, Deb," said Dexter unhappily. "You only had a split second to make a decision. It isn't fair of you to keep beating yourself up about what happened, it isn't going to change anything."

"I know," said Debra dully as she listlessly pulled at a loose piece of thread in her hospital sheets. "But when it came down to it with going through with the abortion, I just couldn't bring myself to take another innocent life because of our fuck ups." Debra grimaced, feeling emotional tears sting her eyes which she tried to blink back. "It just kind of came to me in that moment. Because of us, a life had been taken out of this world. All of a sudden I realised that because of us, we could bring a life into this world." She moved her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know, it feels like some kind of karmic fucking realignment, like we owed the universe that." Debra looked up at him, expression searching. "Right? Don't you think?"

Dexter sat there for a long moment, seeming to be mulling over her question. Finally, he spoke. "I guess you're right," he said softly. Dexter caught her gaze and nodded. "Maybe this is something that was always meant to happen." He stood up from his chair and took a seat on the side of the bed. Dexter lifted up the bottom of his shirt. "You've got sauce all over your face," he informed her before gently wiping it away with the corner of his shirt.

"It'll leave a mark," Debra protested weakly about his shirt, thrown off by how calmly Dexter seemed to be taking all of this but not moving away. She'd thought he'd announce she was out of her mind for thinking something like that and Debra wasn't sure she'd have disagreed with him.

"It's you," replied Dexter simply, absorbed in his task of tenderly cleaning away every last bit of the barbeque sauce from her face, "you always leave a mark."

Debra wanted to ask what he meant by that observation but supposed she already knew. They both left their marks on each other, indelibly writing their names under each other's skin, forever branding the other.

Dexter's eyes flicked up and captured hers as he finally finished wiping down her face. He remained very close, his face in hers. "We can do this, Deb. It won't be easy but this baby will want for nothing," Dexter promised her earnestly. "We'll make it work. You're going to be a great mother."

This was the part Debra hadn't had time to prepare herself for, this was the moment she'd been dreading. And having Dexter's soulful eyes staring into her own wasn't helping any. "I know," she said determinedly, "because I'm going to do the best thing for this baby. The only thing which makes sense." She saw a flicker of uncertainty pass through Dexter's eyes and forced herself on. "I'm going to have this baby, Dex and then I'm going to give it to a family who deserves it. A loving family who can take care of this baby properly and give it a real chance at a normal, healthy life." Debra's heart was pounding painfully away in her chest as she waited for Dexter's response to the only possible solution to this nightmare of a situation.

She'd walked out of the clinic earlier that day, having no idea what she was going to do next. Sitting there in the quiet of the park the solution had come to Debra. She didn't deserve this child and the kid sure as fuck didn't deserve her or Dexter's fucked up mess of a life. But there were families out there that did. Debra knew keeping this baby wasn't an option anymore than ending its life. Adoption was the only other answer. Sure, it meant getting through the next five months but it almost seemed fitting to Debra. Like she was doing her time in purgatory for her crimes but had a release date. The moment she could hand this baby off to a family who deserved it, then surely she was going to be absolved of at least some of her guilt for LaGuerta's death, right?

Dexter slowly pulled away from her, standing up and walking away from the bed, putting his back to her. Debra studied the set of his shoulders intently, trying to work out what his reaction would be. When they were at her house, she'd intentionally tried to goad Dexter into anger. Debra had wanted Dexter to be mad at her, for punish her for nearly taking another innocent life. His anger had been a welcome relief to the internal pain and self-loathing Debra had been feeling in that moment. She knew she was being cruel with how she'd let Dexter find out he was the father of the baby. It wasn't enough to punish herself, there was this perverse need to punish him as well, even though it hurt Debra to do that to him. All that pain felt somehow fitting after the way they'd conspired to keep the truth of LaGuerta's death from those who'd loved her. It was right that they should suffer now. When Debra thought she'd been miscarrying, she'd made a deal with the universe. If the universe didn't take the baby then and there, it was confirmation her plan was the right one. When the doctor had told her the baby was safe and sound, Debra knew what she had to do. But now that Debra had made her decision about what to do about this pregnancy, she needed Dexter's support. If he was going to fight her on this, then the next few months were going to be more of a hell then Debra already expected them to be. "Dexter," she pushed him, "say something."

Dexter turned his head so she could see his profile. "What do you want me to say?" he asked tightly.

"I want you to tell me that I'm right, that you're going to support me in this." Debra held her breath, waiting for Dexter's reply...

**A/N****:** **So, I'm curious to know what people think Dexter's answer is going to be, given his own ambivalence over this baby. I don't know if anyone reading this thought of adoption as an option but I thought that was a logical step for Debra. If she was ready to be a mother, then this would be a much shorter story and I could probably wrap it up in the next chapter. But I do see this whole thing as much more a struggle, for both of them, no matter what they choose. Ultimately, whatever the final outcome, it's not going to be easy for either of them, which is what makes for a (hopefully) compelling story. **

**And yes, sorry, another CH. Perhaps you should assume all of my chapters will have them, brace accordingly and then be pleasantly surprised when they don't. LOL **

**PS. And can I just say how blown away by the detailed reviews you guys are leaving me. They are epic and I love every syllable! I read them all more than once because you all say such thought-provoking things which I like to dwell on while writing this fic. You're all awesome! :D **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N****: Managed another chapter. I thought I was going to get it to you days ago but I kept getting called into work and doing split shifts, so no story for you. LOL Anyways, a day off today and in lieu of cleaning my filthy house, I've added more to the chapter by way of apology for not posting sooner. **

**I'm still loving reading all of your comments. I have to say, I've written for a few fandoms now and the Dexter readers are definitely in a league of their own when it comes to such insightful commenting and thoughts they offer up on chapters. It's really gratifying to me, so much love for that, guys. :D **

**I won't hold you up with reading the next chapter as it is another big, emotional one to wade through. I'm reading through all of the points and wish lists in your reviews and have to say, I'm intending to hit/address all of your points and beats of the story line as we go along. I love that we all want the same things from this fic. It makes a tricky story that much easier to write. ;) **

**Thanks again for reading, reviewing, following and faving – I'm honoured and excited you want to go on this journey with me... :D **

**Chapter SEVENTEEN**

"I've always wondered why love has to be so full of conflict and strife.

Why can't love be simple?

Why can't it just be as pure as two people who realize

that they can't live as well, or as happily, apart as they can together?"  
~Bella André~

_Come A Little Bit Closer_

"I want you to tell me that I'm right, that you're going to support me in this."

Debra's words hung between them and Dexter fought to know how to respond. His first instinct was to give Debra what she needed, to reassure her that he was with her one hundred percent but something held him back.

Harry was suddenly standing in front of him. "Dexter," he urged him, "answer her, tell Debra what she needs to hear."

Dexter stared at Harry, his back still to Debra. It'd be so easy to just agree and go along with her plan. It was arguably the right thing to do but even so, the words just didn't come.

"Jesus, Dexter," said an agitated Debra, "at least say something."

"Don't upset her," cautioned a scowling Harry as Dexter slowly turned around to face an anxious but determined looking Debra.

Dexter's voice was low. "What do you want me to say?"

Debra moved one shoulder restlessly. "I told you, that you know adoption is the best thing to do now."

Dexter tried to choose his next words carefully but it was hard with all of this emotion raging away inside of him. "When I woke up this morning, it was just another day. Twelve hours later you're asking me to make a decision on a child I didn't even know existed until a few hours ago?" A muscle ticked in Dexter's jaw. "I can't do it. I need more time."

"Time won't change the facts," shot back Debra. "This kid, you could never come out and say you were the father. That's not even an option."

"She's right, Dexter," agreed Harry quickly. "You openly claiming this child as your own would destabilise the entire family."

"You don't know that," ground out Dexter.

"Of course I know that," said Debra heatedly. "Fuck, Dexter, can you even imagine telling anyone we know? What the fuck? At the very least we'd have to leave town, start again where no one knew us. What is that going to do to Harrison, how confusing is it all going to be for him? And then what, we do that and then you and me get married, settle in and become the all-American pin up family?"

Dexter's head was spinning from her rapid fire questions, none of which he had an answer for.

"What right do we have to bring a child into that clusterfuck of a situation?" asked Debra heatedly. "And drag Harrison through it as well. All we can offer this kid are parents who are liars and murders. What the fuck kind of people would do that to an innocent child if there was another option?"

"So, what, I'm just meant to relinquish any rights I have to my own flesh and blood?" bit out Dexter.

"Oh come on," said a heated Debra, "don't pretend that the thought of another child doesn't scare the fuck out of you, Dexter."

"Of course it does," snapped Dexter, "but it was the same with Harrison and I just worked through it." He fixed her with a pointed look. "With you encouraging me."

"I didn't know the full story then and you didn't have any options, not with Rita in the picture," pushed back Debra. "But this time it's completely different. We have an option here that you didn't have with Harrison. Rita was always going to be a good mom while you know I'm going to be a shit one-"

"I don't know that," said Dexter tersely, "and either do you. Look how great you are with Harrison."

"Being an aunt is a whole lot different to being a fucking mother," threw back Debra. "I can't keep my shit together for more than five minutes, how do you think that is fair on a helpless baby?"

"You wouldn't be alone," he argued. "I'd be there."

"Yes, as an uncle," said Debra tightly. "That's not going to be enough. I can barely keep myself alive half the time, how am I meant to keep a baby safe?" She shook her head at him. "And what the fuck, Dexter, like you really want this complication in your life either."

"I don't know what I want," said a vexed Dexter. "That's the problem."

_This would be so much simpler if Harrison wasn't in my life. If I wasn't a father already, it'd be easy to go with Deb's plan, because I didn't know what I was relinquishing. But now I do, and it's not as cut and dried as Deb is trying to convince me it is. _

The irony of him being the one to bring emotions into this situation didn't escape Dexter.

_Who could have seen that coming? _

"I know," said Debra flatly, still defending her decision, "so why would you want to bring a kid into all of that uncertainty? You think us having a baby together is going to make things any less complicated or confusing between us?"

"We _are_ having a baby together," said Dexter sharply. "That particular horse has already bolted. We have to deal with it, no matter what."

"And I am," ground out Debra.

"You're making these decisions too quickly." Dexter shook his head. "You need to take more time."

"What is more time going to do?" asked Debra tersely. "It's not going to change the fact you're a serial killer, it's not going to change the fact I'm your lying accomplice who's a murderer too. All that's going to happen is I'm going to get fatter and people are going to start asking questions. I want to take control of this fucking disaster, Dexter. I'm sick to fucking death of trying to play catch up in my own life."

"You're just looking at this baby as a problem to solve-"

"Because it is," said Debra sharply.

"You're underestimating the emotional impact being pregnant is going to have on you, Deb, _is_ having on you." Dexter couldn't let this go. He didn't like making quick judgements. He liked to examine a problem from all angles, weigh everything up and then make his decision. Debra was far more impulsive then he was and her need for action often clouded her judgement. This was too important to not consider all the ramifications of any decision.

Debra snorted. "Really, you're giving me a lecture on emotions? Am I fucking dreaming here?"

"I know they're hard and complicated," argued Dexter. "I know they rarely make sense and adding pregnancy hormones to all of that-" He shrugged. "It makes it hard for a rational decision."

"So, what, I'm crazy?" asked Debra, her eyes narrowing menacingly. "Incapable of making any kind of decisions for myself?"

"Tread carefully, Dexter," Harry warned him, "you're upsetting her."

Dexter didn't need Harry to tell him that but Debra seemed determined to hash this out here and now and he couldn't pretend that this was as clear cut for him as it seemed to be for her. "You've been through so much," Dexter hedged. "What harm is it going to do just to take some time to really come to terms with all of this?"

"You can't make me keep this baby, Dexter," she said, voice low. "You said I'd make a good mom, well that's what I'm doing right now. I'm going to give this baby a fighting chance to have a normal life, as far away from us as possible."

"So, it doesn't matter what I say?" asked Dexter painfully.

Debra caught his gaze, a fierce determination in her eyes. "You tell me that I'm not right, Dexter. You promise me that this kid wouldn't have a better, easier life without us as parents. You're a good dad to Harrison and I know you love him but even so, you still can't stop d-doing what you do." She stumbled a little over that last part. "I know you never want Harrison to find out about that side of your life and fuck, I'll do anything to make sure he won't, just like you, but it could still happen. You can't swear to me that it won't."

Dexter looked away, unable to argue with that fear which lived inside of him.

"I can't do that to this baby," said Debra hopelessly. "It's not right and I want to do something fucking right, just once and this is my chance." Her look was pointed. "_Our_ chance."

"So what, giving up this baby is our penance, for all of our sins?" asked Dexter unevenly. "Is that how you want me to see it?"

Debra was getting teary. "Maybe. Jesus, Dexter, I don't know. Whatever it takes for you to get on board with this because I'm telling you now, it's fucking going to happen. This is the only solution and either you can be a part of that or you can just get the fuck out of my way."

Debra's words tore through Dexter's flesh, ripping him open.

_It's a bluff. Deb can't have me out of her life anymore than I can with her. We've both proven that. _

But the fact Debra would say such a thing showed how truly desperate and determined she was about all of this. They were at a stalemate.

"I need time," said Dexter hoarsely. Suddenly being around her was too painful. "I need to get this straight in my head." He turned abruptly around and headed towards the door, unable to breathe as everything pressed in on him.

"Dexter."

This was the second time Debra had stopped him from an emotional storm out. Dexter halted but didn't turn around.

"Marco," she whispered, her voice breaking over the single word which spoke of her fear of being abandoned by him and the need for reassurance.

Dexter's stomach tightened, instinct screaming at him to give her the reassurance Debra needed but he couldn't pretend that this was something he was ready to agree to yet. He'd seemed to have lost the ability to lie to her now. "I need time," he repeated raggedly, unable to look back at her because he knew his resolve would weaken. Dexter quietly let himself out of her room and started to walk down the corridor. He walked without really knowing where he was going.

Harry was by his side, face scowling in disapproval. "Dexter, you have to go back in there and tell your sister what she needs to hear," he ordered the younger man sternly.

Dexter walked by the elevator doors and headed for the stairs, needing the exercise to burn off some of these emotions which were swirling away inside of him. "I can't," he said tightly, pulling on the heavy fire doors and starting down the stairs. "I can't lie to her."

"Of course you can," said Harry fiercely, keeping pace with Dexter as he jogged down the stairs. "It's cruel to leave Debra like that."

"I'm not trying to be cruel," said Dexter through clenched teeth. "I just can't lie to her. Not now, not anymore."

_It used to be my greatest gift to Deb, my ability to lie to her and protect her from the real me. I can't offer her that peace anymore, as counterfeit as it was. She's crawled under my skin, seen into my soul and we can't go back. I can't offer her comforting lies any longer, only harsh reality. Deb's switched on the light and sees who I am now. There is nowhere for me to hide from her. _

"And how is Debra meant to cope with you abandoning her when she needs you most?" asked Harry angrily.

Dexter had just reached a landing between stairs and he whirled around, face flushing with uncharacteristic anger towards Harry. "I'm not abandoning, Deb!" he shouted, impassioned voice bouncing off the enclosed, concrete space. "I'd never do that." Dexter's voice cracked a little. "I can't do that." He shook his head, the anger draining from his voice. "I can't live without her." Dexter grimaced. "Just like she can't live without me." He lifted one shoulder in defeat. "Deb knows I'll come back to her, she knows I won't be able to stay away for long."

_Deb's right, we really are a clusterfuck. _

"Are you sure about that, son?" Harry pushed. "You sister is very vulnerable right now."

Dexter gave a humourless, half-smile at the dynamics of their relationship. "And that's how Deb knows I'm not going anywhere. I can't leave her, I just need some time and space to think, to get this straight in my head."

"Debra's right, you can't force her to keep this child."

"I don't even know if that's what I want," said Dexter tiredly. "That's the point, I need time to think." He started walking down the stairs again, spent from this conversation and everything that had happened today. Maybe tomorrow he'd wake up and everything would be a lot clearer in his head and he'd be able to walk comfortably through this emotional minefield with no problems.

Maybe.

**oooOOOOooo**

Debra signed the last piece of paperwork for her release and handed back the pen to the woman behind the nurses' station. "Is there a taxi rank here or do I have to call for one?"

"That won't be necessary, Debra."

Debra turned around to see the always elegant Evelyn Vogel walking towards her down the hospital corridor.

"I'll be more than happy to take you home."

Debra frowned a little. "How-?" She shook her head, answering her own question before even asking it. "Dexter."

"He rang last night, asked for me to pick you up this morning to take you home." Vogel looked her over. "How are you feeling? Dexter told me about your scare."

Debra's eyes narrowed. "What else did he tell you?"

"What else was there to tell?" she asked mildly. "You were together when you started to bleed and he took you to the hospital."

"So, he didn't mention we'd just come back from an abortion clinic?" pushed Debra defensively, instinct making her go on the attack before anyone else. She caught the double take the nurse behind the counter gave her at that and she glared at her for the perceived judgement. "You got something you want to fucking say to me?" The nurse's gaze immediately skittered away and she abruptly started to busy herself with paperwork, moving it around on her desk and clearly looking for some busy work to hide from Debra's ire.

Vogel took Debra's arm and guided her away from the desk and the flustered nurse behind it. "Dexter didn't say anything about that. I guess he was protecting your privacy."

Debra gave a snort, feeling all over the place with her emotions. "Yeah, Dex is great like that," she said sarcastically. "You know he broke into both of our places yesterday to find me, violating the shit out of our privacies in the process."

Vogel chuckled quietly.

Debra gave her a confused sideways look. "And you're okay with that?"

Vogel just smiled. "I can't say I'm overly thrilled but Dexter is a straight line thinker. He saw a problem and drew a straight line between two points to solve it. I could no more hold that against him then be upset at an eagle for soaring amongst the clouds. It's in their nature to do so and we can't change that."

Debra shook her head. "Fuck but you surprise me sometimes."

"Are you upset with Dexter?" enquired Vogel as they stepped into the elevator to take them down to the ground level foyer of the hospital. "For what he did?"

Debra sighed. "No. Like you said, that's who he is. It's not like it's some great fucking surprise."

The elevator came to rest on the bottom floor and they both stepped off. Vogel cast a quick, interested look in her direction. "I'm assuming that you chose not to go through with the termination once you were at the clinic," she surmised. "Do you mind if I ask why? You seemed very certain it was the only option for you."

Debra kept her gaze straight ahead as they walked. "I couldn't take another life," she said unevenly.

"I'm very glad to hear you say that, Debra."

Debra grunted. "I was right, you are pro-life."

"I'm pro the mental health of my patients," countered Vogel evenly. "For many women an abortion is an appropriate solution to an unwanted pregnancy. I just didn't feel it was the right one for you and I'd hoped you'd come to the same conclusion, given enough time." She nodded approvingly. "I think this is a very positive thing for you, being about to choose your actions, embrace the consequences."

"There aren't going to be consequences," said Debra shortly. "I'm giving it up for adoption." She stopped and looked around now that they were outside in the car park. "Where is your car?"

Vogel indicated over to their left. "It's about three rows back."

Debra nodded and started to walk, not wanting to stand around talking about her last statement.

Vogel fell into step beside her. "Adoption? So, you're still not considering caring for the child yourself?"

"Fuck no," bit out Debra.

"And you and Dexter are at odds over this?" she asked slowly.

"What makes you say that?" asked Debra sharply.

"Because he asked me to pick you up and didn't do it himself," observed Vogel.

"Dex is pissed at me," said Debra, intentionally over-simplifying the situation. "He doesn't think adoption is the way to go." She gave a short bark of derisive laughter. "So, there you go, you're amazing straight-line thinker can't recognise a good idea when he hears it. What do you make of that, huh? You'd think Dex, of all people, would get on board with my plan. It solves everything."

"It solves everything at a cost," observed Vogel. "Perhaps Dexter is just a few steps ahead of you in considering those costs. Remember, he is already a parent, he knows what it is that you're potentially giving up." She made a little noise of surprise and shook her head. "It still astounds me the level of consideration Dexter manifests around you, Debra. In my experience, it's quite unprecedented. As your pregnancy progresses, it'll be extremely interesting to see Dexter balance that against his own, innately detached and logical tendencies."

"Fuck but I hate it when you talk about us as if we're a science project," said Debra bitterly. "Like we're some kind of lab rats you're experimenting on. This is our fucking lives, not your next paper or book."

Vogel made a contrite face. "I'm sorry, Debra, I forget myself sometimes. I didn't mean to seem to sound so clinical and I apologise. I have grown rather fond of you and Dexter and I want only to help you both."

"Then you should talk to Dexter and tell him to get his head out of his ass and support me," grumbled Debra, trying not to show how unexpectedly touched she was by Vogel's admission.

They were at Vogel's car now and they stopped walking. Vogel tilted her head and eyed Debra curiously. "Are you concerned about Dexter perhaps removing himself from your life because of your decision?"

Debra thought seriously about that question. She'd seen how hurt and confused Dexter had been last night when she'd told him of her decision to adopt. In fact, it had shocked her a little. It had seemed to her the obvious solution to their problem and hadn't expected Dexter's reaction. Debra struggled to know what it was exactly Dexter wanted from her but then, seeing as she didn't exactly know what she wanted from him, then they were even in that department. "He said he needed time to think."

"Curious reaction," mused Vogel thoughtfully. "I wonder if he's regrouping to consider ways to talk you out of this?"

Debra tensed, worried Vogel was going to wonder why Dexter was so intent on doing such a thing. "Well, he's shit out of luck there, because I'm not going to change my mind so he should give up now and get with the program."

"Dexter demonstrates fledgling attempts at long-term thinking when it comes to you-"

"You're doing it again," interrupted Debra sharply.

"I'm sorry," apologised Vogel a little sheepishly, "it's how I think. I just meant that Dexter has previously shown that he's not empathetic with people, that emotion was beyond him. At best he had to mimic it without really understanding it. By being concerned on how your decision to adopt might impact on you in the future, Debra, it shows a huge amount of personal growth that, quite frankly, I didn't believe him capable of."

"Yeah," said Debra flatly, "he's full of surprises, is my brother." She had to wonder if the surprises were ever going to stop between them. "And no, I'm not worried that Dexter is going to leave me," Debra announced suddenly, realising it was true, despite how they'd left things last night. "He's my family, you don't get to walk away from that." She pulled a face. "Even if you want to sometimes."

Vogel nodded her head in agreement. "There is a level of co-dependence to your relationship which would make such a thing highly unlikely." She half-smiled in a self-deprecating fashion. "In my professional opinion, that is, if you were looking for such a thing."

"All I'm looking for is for these next five months to be over quickly and I can just put all of this shit behind me," said Debra determinedly as she climbed into the car.

Vogel followed suit, sliding into the driver's seat and doing up her seat belt. "Let's hope that is as easily achieved as it is said," she said mildly.

It was obvious to Debra that Vogel didn't think it would be but Debra stubbornly wouldn't let herself believe that. Everything had to go back to normal after this baby was out of their lives, whatever her and Dexter's version of normal was anyway. Who the fuck knew at this point? All Debra knew was there was a light at the end of this dark tunnel and that light was adoption. She'd be left with a clean slate, to start over and no matter how much Dexter might be kicking and screaming right now, Debra knew he was going to appreciate that clean slate as much as she did, when the time came. At least, that was what Debra kept telling herself because she had to believe it was true.

It just had to be...


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N****: Made it with another chapter. At last. This one felt like I was pulling teeth. The muse just wasn't interested. I'm still very time poor with work at the moment, so writing has been majorly side-lined. When I feel like writing, I have to go to work. When I have free time, I don't want to write. It's maddening. . Anyways, holidays coming up in a couple more weeks. I'm so looking forward to them and hopefully using them to get this story all finished. That would be awesome. :D **

**In the meantime, thank you for all the supportive reviews which are nothing short of magnificent. I'm so sorry I haven't managed to reply to all of them yet but like I said, time poor and I figured that you'd probably want another chapter over a PM. I do really appreciate all the work that goes into your reviews though and am very humbled that folks are invested in this story. You're all tots amazeballs. ;) **

**So, let's get on with the show. I think people will enjoy Deb in this chapter. The muse took her in another direction which I had fun with. Hopefully y'all do the same...**

**Toodles. :D **

**Chapter EIGHTEEN**

"All extremes of feeling are allied with madness."  
~Virginia Woolf

_Orlando_

Dexter took another mouthful of his snow cone and chewed on it as he casually looked around the crowded marina. To anyone who might notice him, he looked like everyone else who was taking advantage of another sunny Miami day. Only Dexter knew differently. He was in the middle of vetoing a potential candidate for his table. It had been nearly a week since he'd left Debra at the hospital. He knew she was physically fine because of his regular check ins with Vogel... and the fact he'd spent more than one night sitting outside her house in his car. Dexter was still a jumble of emotions when it came to Debra and this pregnancy. Adoption made sense but parenthood had very little to do with being sensible. The first time Dexter had held Harrison in his arms he'd been terrified, not knowing what kind of father he was going to make for the child. He understood Debra's fears and knew theirs wasn't a straightforward situation but he wasn't sure if either of them could truly appreciate what not having this new child in their lives would do to them. Then again, they had no way of knowing what having this child in their lives would do to them. Dexter crunched on his icy treat with a now very familiar frustration.

_No matter how many times I try and look at this and come to some kind of coherent plan, all I end up doing is chasing my own thoughts around and around in my head. _

Dexter was beginning to fear this problem didn't have a solution. It just was what it was, which meant that one of them had to compromise.

_Compromise – where no one ends up getting what they want. _

Dexter grimaced.

_Seems about right. _

The thing was, Dexter didn't know how much longer he could live with this self-imposed exile from Debra. He felt like someone who'd lost their hand and would keep going to use it, forgetting the loss only to be jolted back into the shocking reality. Dexter missed Debra like a missing limb. Phantom pains reminded him of that loss every minute of the day. He knew she was right there, only a phone call away but Dexter didn't want to talk to Debra until he had his head on straight. He owed her at least that. Trouble was, he wasn't sure that day would ever come. Dexter took an oversized mouthful of the snow cone, exhausted thinking about it all. That's why he was here. He needed to do something which was simple and straightforward, something that didn't create confusion and stress inside of him. And Peter Michael Ford was just that simple something.

Ford was a man in his early thirties with a string of assaults on women as long as your arm. Only every woman had been too frightened to press charges. The assaults were bad enough, but what had really put the man on Dexter's radar was his interest in young boys. There had been several abductions of boys around ten years of age in the last few months. Each boy had eventually been found but with terrible mutilations, not least of which was the removal of their penis. The young boys were left traumatised and scarred for life, death almost would have felt like a kinder option. Dexter studied Ford over the top of his snow cone, watching him fish off the pier. The police had found a lot of circumstantial evidence on the guy but he always had an air-tight alibi – his abused and batter girlfriend, Barbara. She was too scared and beaten down to do anything other than agree with whatever Ford decided the truth was going to be.

_The police's hands are tied but mine aren't. _

Dexter needed this, the feeling of doing something right, of fixing a problem, instead of just creating them. The last couple of days had been spent making sure Dexter had the right man. His instincts already told him he did but Harry's code and system of vetoing each potential victim were as much a part of the whole ritual as the actual killing. Some of the tension left Dexter's body at just the thought of taking Ford's life, saving all of his potential victims and balancing the scales of justice. Watching the blood flow from this animal's body would be nothing short of cathartic and Dexter was eager to get started, to feel that release.

"Don't rush into this," cautioned Harry, suddenly appearing by his side at the table. "You're too distracted to do this properly, son. I think you should wait."

"Wait until he's maimed another victim?" asked Dexter, watching Ford sidle up to a young boy who was fishing next to him and look to be offering fishing advice. "Like that kid?"

"I'm not disagreeing that Ford needs to be dealt with," said Harry quietly. "I'm just concerned about your state of mind."

"I'm fine," said Dexter shortly. "I'm doing what I know."

"But all of your attention isn't on the job at hand," fretted Harry. "These activities of yours need to have your complete attention, Dexter. You're thinking too much about your sister."

"Yeah, well maybe if you had done the same when you were alive, we wouldn't be in this mess we're in now," said Dexter bitterly, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them. He blinked, taken aback by his own words.

_Where did that come from?_

He sent a wary glance over to Harry, surprised to see the apparition of his father suddenly looking old. In his mind's eye, Dexter had kept Harry perfectly preserved, an ageless homage to the only father he'd ever known. This was something new.

Harry made a face of regret. "Maybe you're right," he said softly. Harry looked down at his hands which were resting on the table they were sitting at. "I spent so much time with you, Dexter, I had to. You needed a lot of guidance and direction, there was too much at stake not to give you my full attention." His face clouded over. "I had to exclude Debra from so much of what we did together." Harry looked at Dexter, almost seeming to be pleading with him to agree. "I didn't want to but it was necessary, to protect her."

"It's my fault," said Dexter dully, staring at his snow cone without interest. "Debra missed out on having a real father because of me." His voice became choked. "I've taken so much away from her."

"We both have, Dex," said Harry unhappily, "but we've given her things as well. We both have to try and hold onto that."

"I've given her another thing to stress about in her life," said Dexter bitterly. "This baby is another thing in Deb's life to not feel good enough for."

"Your sister is trying to do the right thing in putting this baby up for adoption. That might be a way for her finally to gain some feelings of self-worth." Harry's lips tightened. "God knows I couldn't seem to give them to her." He rubbed his face tiredly. "My little girl, my precious baby girl. The day your mother and me brought her home from the hospital, I remember standing there in our living room with Deb in my arms and promising I was going to be the best father in the world to her." Harry shook his head. "I failed her completely."

"No, you didn't," said Dexter quietly. "Debra adored you, still does."

"I don't deserve her love," said a downcast Harry.

Dexter half-smiled in a self-deprecating fashion. "That's Deb's gift, loving those who don't deserve it." He sighed heavily. "Unfortunately for her."

Harry grimaced. "I know." The two men sat in silence for a moment, thinking about the young woman and how they'd both impacted on her life. Harry looked over at Ford who was now chatting to another group of young kids. "I think you should wait on dealing with this one," he said, returning to their original topic. "Get your head straight."

_I don't know if my head will ever be straight again. Maybe it never was and I was just better at deluding myself that I knew who and what I was and what I wanted. _

"This will help with that," argued Dexter stubbornly. "Killing is the thing I'm good at. It's my purpose in this life. I can't do anything for Deb right now, but I can do something for every kid this pervert intends to mutilate in the future."

"Your greatest gift has been detachment," worried Harry. "It's allowed you to remain in control of these circumstances. I'm afraid you're too engaged in this kill, son. You need it too badly because you think it'll make you feel better."

"It will."

"It won't change anything about your situation with Debra. This isn't going to change anything."

"It'll be one less predator in the world and that's not nothing."

"As long as you don't end up being that one less predator, Dexter," said Harry solemnly.

Dexter's jaw hardened. "It won't be. I know what I'm doing." It felt good to be able to say that about something in his world and Dexter hung onto it for dear life.

**oooOOOOooo**

Debra went to sit down at her desk and grimaced as the material of her jeans dug into her skin. She stood up and pulled up the bottom of her blouse and glared at the small bump which had just appeared this morning. Trying to ignore it, Debra had dressed as normal but now she was regretting putting on her extra tight pair of jeans. It had been a stupid act of defiance over something she had no control over. She was going to get fat, there was no way around it and even worse, there was no way to hide it. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath, annoyed at having to deal with this today. Why did babies always have to be so fucking inconvenient? Debra knew she could probably hide her pregnancy for a few more weeks but the thought of someone confronting her about it freaked her out. She needed to be in control of every aspect of this pregnancy now and that meant when and how other people found out. Not letting herself think this through, Debra almost stormed out of her office and into Elway's.

Elway looked up in surprise at her standing over him with a fierce expression on her face. "Something on your mind, Debra?"

"I'm pregnant," she announced without any kind of preamble. Debra crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared down at Elway, launching into a pre-empting diatribe of any kind of debate on the subject. "I'm going to work here until I give birth and I'm going to do my job, exactly the same as I always have. I don't want any special consideration or fucking busy work. I'll take my holidays when I'm due to push this kid out, give it up for adoption and then be back at work. And if you try and fire me or sideline me, I'll fucking have you up on discrimination charges quicker than you can suck back one of those shitty nutrient drinks of yours." Debra's face was flushed as she finished her rant. Her tone brooked no argument. "We good here?" She gave a curt nod of her head. "Good." Debra went to leave but Elway stalled her.

"Deb, wait."

Debra swung around and glared at him. "What for?"

"Because I'm your boss and I fucking say so," shot back Elway. He arched a challenging eyebrow. "Or did I misunderstand that little meltdown and you don't want to work for me anymore?"

Debra grunted and threw herself down in the chair. Her gaze was full of warning that Elway should choose his next words carefully. "Alright, say what you've got to say. I've got work to do."

Elway sat back in his chair and regarded her steadily. "I'm assuming congratulations are not an appropriate response to this news."

"No," said Debra shortly.

"Do I get to know whose kid it is?"

"Mine," bit out Debra. "At least until I can give it over to the adoptive parents I'm going to choose."

"You're not tempted to keep it?"

Debra's expression was hard. "Do I look like a fucking mother to you?"

"You look like someone ready for a fight," offered up Elway mildly, "and I'm not looking to step into that particular ring."

"Glad to hear it." Debra went to stand up.

"A minute more of your time," Elway instructed her, indicating she should sit back down.

Debra made a grumbling noise of impatience but did as she was asked.

"Debra, you're a big asset to my team and I'm happy to have you working here for as long as you want to," said Elway steadily. "I have no problem with you continuing to work here in your current condition but I'm going to expect you to meet me halfway with this."

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I need you to amend your current ways of getting the job done. No more disappearing for days on end and going off by yourself tracking down your marks. I've got a responsibility as your employer to make sure that you don't engage in any excessively dangerous practices under the guise of performing your job."

"You always used to be okay with how I got my job done," shot back Debra.

"I tolerated it because you got me results." Elway inclined his head towards her stomach. "But with a baby on board, the stakes are a little higher and I'm not going to be responsible for two lives. All I'm asking is that you play by the rules and do your job with the due amount of caution everyone else brings to the table. No more reckless vigilante shit otherwise your ass is out of here and don't think any lawyer is going to touch a discrimination claim from you once they hear about little jaunts like you had with Briggs in Mexico and how that ended." He sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Briggs," Elway muttered, putting the pieces together far too quickly for Debra's liking, "is he the father?"

Debra shrugged, knowing this was going to be the easiest lie to go with. "What if he was?"

"Briggs is dead."

"No fucking shit."

"Is that why you're giving up the baby?"

"I don't want or need a baby in my life right now," said Debra sharply, "and I don't have to justify my decision to fucking anyone."

"I wasn't looking for you to justify anything to me," said Elway mildly. "I'm just enquiring as a concerned friend." He pursed his lips, doing the maths. "So, what, you're about four months now?"

"Nearly seventeen weeks," said Debra dully. It still didn't feel real. She fixed him with a hard look. "And if I hear one whiff of even talk about a fucking baby shower I will fucking rip your balls off and wear them as earrings."

Elway gave a wry smile. "These next five months are just going to fly by, I can tell."

Debra moved a little uncomfortably in her chair, aware she was taking her bad mood out on someone who didn't deserve it. "I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I just want this over and done with already."

Elway half-smiled. "At the risk of having other delicate parts of my anatomy made into jewellery, I just want you to know that I'm on your side, Deb. Whatever you need, I'm here to help."

Debra's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you always so fucking nice to me?"

"The typical response is to say thank you," said Elway in amusement.

"I just don't know what it is you want from me."

"Do your job, make me a lot of money and don't get hurt or hurt anyone else in the process."

Debra nodded warily. "Okay, I can do all those things."

Elway gave an easy smile. "Then we're all good here."

Debra nodded, relieved to have at least one area of her life under control.

"Will you be informing your co-workers of your joyous news or do you want me to?"

Debra's arched an eyebrow. "If anyone asks-"

"Yes?"

"Tell them to go fuck themselves and mind their own fucking business."

Elway's lips quirked. "I may use less fucks in the delivery of that sentiment."

"As long as they get the message," said Debra coolly. "If they thought I was a temperamental bitch before, then they're not going to want to get in my way now."

"I'll inform our HR people that they may be getting an influx of complaints in the near future," said Elway, seeming unfazed by the idea.

Debra stood up. "Yeah, well, thanks, I guess, for being so understanding and shit."

"I'm too frightened not to be," said a straight-faced Elway. "I bruise like a peach, you know."

Debra rolled her eyes at his teasing. "Fuck off." She walked to the door, feeling empowered by having taken charge of the situation. Maybe it was time to take control of some other situations she mused. Dexter was taking too long to get his shit together. Debra wanted him back in her life and if that meant kicking and screaming then she was fine with that. Turning back around, she addressed her boss. "I've got some leads to follow up, I'll be back later."

Elway waved her away. "God speed. You go out there and make me a lot of money."

Debra couldn't help but smile at the man's straight-line thinking. She headed back to her office and grabbed her coat and keys, knowing that this stalemate had gone on long enough between her and Dexter. She needed to know what was going on in his head and get them talking again. Her 'Marco' was still hanging between them and Debra was determined to get her 'Polo' out of Dexter even if she had to beat the shit out of him. She strode off towards her car with deadly determination, blood pumping through her body and deciding these pregnancy hormones kicked ass. Finally this kid was working with her in trying unfuck her life. About time. Everyone was going to get on board the Debra train or she was going to kick their asses until they did.

Debra was a hormonal woman on a mission and God help anyone who got in her way...


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N****: Hello all, another chapter up. :D **

**The muse took this one in a completely different direction then I thought it would go. That's always the fun of writing for me, you sit down with one idea but another one entirely comes out. I like being surprised like that. Whether you'll all enjoy this chapter is another thing entirely though. LOL I'd been doing some writing on a story I'm going to attempt to get published – it's going to be a trilogy – and when I came back to do this one, this chapter came out. So yeah, we'll see how this goes. **

**Thanks as always for reading and now I'm off to work to earn some money so I can continue to support myself in the manner to which I've become accustomed. ;) **

**Cheers. :D **

**Chapter NINETEEN**

"You get hit the hardest when trying to run or hide from a problem.

Like the defense on a football field,

putting all focus on evading only one defender is asking to be blindsided."  
~Criss Jami~

Debra stepped off the elevator and into her old office at the Miami PD. It was so familiar but not. Then again, maybe she was the thing which wasn't familiar anymore. Her eyes scanned the area for faces she knew, but most of the desks were empty.

Suddenly Masuka popped up in front of her. "Hey, it's ex-Detective Debra Morgan," he said brightly.

"Hey, it's still-a-dick Masuka," answered back Debra just as brightly.

"I like to play to my strengths," said an unfazed Masuka. "How you been, Deb? You look good." His eyes darted down her body, getting caught at her breasts. "Real good," he murmured distractedly.

"Hey, shit for brains, my eyes are up here," said Debra tersely.

Masuka managed to drag his attention away from Debra's bust line. He looked at her with intense interest. "Is that a new bra or something because I gotta say, it's working for you, Morgan. That bra is doing the work of angels."

"Shut the hell up," snapped Debra, "my boobs are none of your business."

Masuka sighed dramatically. "I know," he lamented, "but a boy can dream, right?"

Debra blew out an exasperated breath. "Where is everyone?"

"Big triple homicide. It's all hands on deck."

Debra's gaze flicked over to the room housing the laboratory. "Dexter too?"

"Nah, he's taking some personal time."

She frowned. "Doing what?" Debra shook her head. "Never mind."

"You want me to tell him you're looking for him?"

Debra rubbed her arm. "No, he already knows," she said quietly.

Masuka looked down at the bag he had in his hand. "I gotta ogle and run, Deb. They need me at the crime scene."

Debra half-smiled. "Sure, don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

Masuka gave a lecherous grin. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're thinking about my ass."

"Fuck but you're a pervy little shit, Masuka. I think I blocked out how bad you were."

Masuka gave one of his trademark giggles, clearly not concerned by Debra's evaluation of him as he headed off to catch the elevator.

Debra was left standing in the middle of the office, not exactly sure what to do next. She'd been all fired up to fix things between Dexter and herself, whether he liked it or not and now she was more than a little deflated. Out of habit, Debra found herself strolling over to the lab and wandering inside. Old memories assailed her of Dexter sitting on the stool in front of her, hunched over the computer screen as they talked about different cases. It all felt so long ago but then like no time had passed at all. Why did everything about the two of them have to be such a fucking paradox? Debra took a seat on stool and absently swung it around in a complete circle, taking in the entire room in her sweep. There was the faintest smell of Dexter's cologne in the air. Debra remembered still being able to smell it on her skin when she'd gotten dressed after they'd made love. "Fuck," she groaned under her breath, unwanted memories of Dexter's body against hers assailed her. The way his hot breath had been on her neck, his sweaty back under her hands, the memories were so vivid. Debra wondered if Dexter thought of their night together often. He wasn't going to have much choice when she started to show properly. Why did her life have to always be in a permanent state of fucked up?

Debra swung the stool around so she was facing the computer screen. She idly bumped the mouse and the screen lit up. A quick glance told her she was looking at the DMV web page, the one only cops could get into. A file was open and Debra read the name. "Peter Michael Ford," she murmured under her breath. Another file on the screen quickly had her linked to his police record. "Fuck me," said Debra as she read the list of crimes he'd been suspected of but never convicted for. In an instance Debra knew Dexter was vetting the guy, just like Harry had taught him. Her heart skipped a painful beat at how careless Dexter had been leaving all of this information up on the computer screen for anyone to see. It wasn't like him. She quickly closed all the folders and cleared Dexter's browsing history. Suddenly Debra was scared. She'd seen Dexter work, knew how careful and precise he was. It was clear to her that he was in no state of mind to be doing something like this. He was going to get himself caught, or worse, killed. Panicked, Debra jumped up and grabbed for her phone. She dialled Dexter's number but it went straight to voice mail. "You fucking answer this phone, Dexter Morgan," she instructed his voice mail. "Call me back, right now!" Debra tried to think how she could find Dexter, where he might take the guy if this was already happening. She was so distracted she burst around the corner just as Quinn was coming the other way. They collided and Debra was knocked off her feet.

Quinn was instantly by her side. "Shit, Deb," he said by way of a hasty apology, "I didn't see you there. You okay?"

Debra let him help haul her to her feet, still reeling a little. "Ah, yeah, I'm fine."

Quinn was smiling at her. "I've never seen you go down so easy." There was an awkward pause as he realised how that might have sounded. "I didn't mean that like as a sex thing or nothing."

"I know, you're not Masuka," said Debra wryly.

"We haven't talked for a bit, how you been?"

"You mean I haven't asked you for a favour in a while, right?" A thought occurred to Debra. She half-smiled. "Want to rectify that?"

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

Debra smiled properly in what felt like ages. "A little bit."

"What do you need?"

"Can you trace Dexter's cell phone for me?"

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "You know, it's more traditional to just call it."

"I know but he's not answering."

He frowned. "You think Dex is in trouble?"

"No, of course not," said Debra quickly. "It's just that I need to find him and he's not answering his phone." She forced a smile to her lips, hating to involve Quinn in their shit but having little choice. "Family crap."

Quinn looked a little suspicious but then he was nodding. "Sure, yeah, give me a couple of minutes."

"Thanks. Favourite ex-partner ever."

"If you came back to work here I could be your favourite current partner ever." Quinn sat down at his desk. "And you could do this shit for yourself."

Debra looked around the office. "Too many ghosts," she muttered under her breath and then gave him a lop-sided smile. "Besides, you love the fact that I need you."

Quinn looked up at her, a hint of nostalgia in his expression. "I guess I do," he agreed softly.

Debra looked away abruptly, breaking the sudden moment between them. The last thing she wanted to do was drag Quinn into this shit storm that was her life. "How you going with that trace?"

"Don't rush the miracle worker; you'll get a lousy miracle."

Debra grimaced. She didn't want that because right about now, she could really do with a miracle.

**oooOOOOooo**

Dexter carefully laid out the last of the plastic rolls he needed to cover the isolated cabin room in. He was looking forward to the kill, needed to feel the satisfaction of watching the blood flow off all of that plastic and pool around his feet. It was going to wash away all of his anxieties and worries, at least for a few minutes and nowadays Dexter was ready to take any kind of relief where he could get it. Harry's nagging words were still dancing around in Dexter's head but he stubbornly ignored them. Sure, it was a little risky to have grabbed the guy on his way to a dentist appointment but Dexter had managed it and now no one was going to miss him until late in the afternoon. Plenty of time for Dexter to do what he needed to do and clean up. He rolled out a sheet of plastic and then went to retrieve Ford. Opening the trunk of his car, Dexter hauled the unconscious man out and draped him over his shoulder, carrying him back inside the cabin. He off loaded his burden, none too gently, onto the ground and then set about undressing him. Dexter cut the plastic ties off the man's wrist, preparing to remove his shirt when suddenly Ford's eyes snapped open.

Ford screamed and sat bolt upright, his head smacking into Dexter's and knocking Dexter to the ground. Blood dripped from Dexter's scalp and into his eyes as he tried to regain his senses. Ford was already on his feet and running. Dexter scrambled to give chase. They were in an isolated area but there were train tracks not too far away and freight trains regularly rumbled by and if any of them saw this guy, Dexter was screwed. Grabbing up a large knife, Dexter ran after Ford, who had now had the good sense to stop screaming. No sooner had Dexter made it out of the door when his world exploded and everything went black. He didn't know how much later it was but when he woke up it was to find himself with his arms stretched above his head, tips of his shoes barely scraping against the ground. Dexter was strung up like a pig about to be slaughtered. A quick look around had him locating Ford, who was sitting on a rock, watching him. Dexter didn't hesitate. "You've made a terrible mistake. You should have killed me already."

Ford's face split into an evil grin. "I don't like to rush these things."

Dexter gave a shrug, or the version of a shrug his current position would allow him. "I can understand that."

"I'm guessing you can," replied Ford coolly. "I saw your set up. You like to be prepared."

"I try."

"Having an off day today, huh?"

"It's not been one of my better ones, agreed."

Ford stood up. "It's about to get a whole lot worse." He strolled over to Dexter, looking him up and down. "You're a little old for my tastes-"

"You're not exactly ringing my bell either." Dexter remained calm, buying time to come up with an escape plan.

Ford kept talking as though he hadn't interrupted. "But I'm willing to compromise, if you are."

"I'm going to go ahead and assume that question was rhetorical and I don't really get a say in the matter," said Dexter mockingly.

"That's probably a good idea," agreed Ford with a smirk.

Harry appeared behind Ford, his face lined in concern. "I told you this could happen if your head wasn't in the game, son."

"Really, Harry?" asked Dexter in exasperation. "You really think I need a told you so right now?"

Ford looked over his shoulder and then was back looking at Dexter warily. "Who you talking to?"

"That's a subject for some debate," offered up Dexter offhandedly. "But I'm going to go with Harry being a projection from deep within my psyche of my dead step father, the man who helped shape me into a serial killer. He seems to appear when I'm having a crisis or moment of indecision about how to react to something. I guess my subconscious decided my id needed a little reining in." Dexter smiled brightly at the other man. "Just so you know, there is an outside chance I'm not right in the head."

"You don't say," said Ford unevenly, looking a little confused. "Your dad taught you how to do this? That's one screwed up, balls out family you've got there, pal."

Dexter half-smiled. "You should meet my sister." The thought of Debra had a knot forming in his stomach. He couldn't die and leave her alone. She needed him just as much as Harrison and he needed them the same way. Dexter fixed his steely gaze on Ford. "So, what's the plan here? Kill me, steal my car, make a getaway and then dump it?"

Ford shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"It's a solid plan," agreed Dexter calmly.

"I thought it had a certain ring to it." Ford scratched his cheek with the tip of the knife he'd confiscated from Dexter, giving him a considered look. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"I don't see why not."

"How come you're not shitting yourself?" Ford motioned the knife up and down Dexter's body. "Most guys in your predicament would be crying and begging for their lives."

"I'm not much of a crier," observed Dexter. "I didn't even cry in 'Beaches'."

"Really?" said Ford in surprise. "Cause that was some sad shit when that woman died. I bawled like a baby."

"She had cancer," said Dexter philosophically. "It wasn't like it was unexpected."

"So, what, you're not afraid of dying?"

Dexter frowned, seriously considering that question. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it before." Before he had nothing to lose, now it felt like he had everything. It was hard to imagine not being able to hold Harrison in his arms again or Deb for that matter but if you were dead, would you even know what you were missing out on? What really worried Dexter was that he'd be leaving behind the two people he loved the most and wouldn't be able to protect them any more.

_But I also wouldn't be able to hurt them any more either. _

The thought wasn't an entirely unappealing one.

_Maybe that is the reason for me still being alive, so that I can die to set everyone else free. _

"Ah, Dex?" Harry was using his most concerned tone. "Don't you think you should be focusing on the problem at hand rather than contemplating the meaning of life?"

"It seems like a relevant topic given the current state of things," argued Dexter.

Ford glanced over his shoulder to where Dexter was talking. "The old man giving you grief, huh?"

"He thinks I'm too distracted and not handling this properly."

Ford pursed his lips. "Harry might have a point. You are about to be brutally murdered." He made a regretful face. "And you know, I feel a bit bad about that. If things had been different, I think we could have been friends."

"You cut the dicks off little boys," said Dexter flatly. "We were never going to be friends."

"So what, you're less evil then me, is that what you're saying?"

"I can tell you this, I'm definitely not more evil."

Ford looked suddenly thoughtful. "I guess it is a bit fucked up."

"It's a lot fucked up," agreed Dexter.

"Yeah, but what are you gonna do, right?"

"Well, I was going to kill you," Dexter reminded him.

"There's that." He sighed. "I guess we'd better get this show on the road."

"Don't feel like you have to rush on my account."

"You know, if I thought you wouldn't kill me. I'd let you go."

"I promise I won't kill you," vowed Dexter.

"That's a lie, isn't it?"

"Yes. You're garbage. The world needs you gone."

"That's an unnecessarily hurtful thing to say."

"Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it," noted Dexter.

"Hey, that's pretty good. You just come up with that on the spot?"

"Mark Twain."

"No shit?"

"No shit," confirmed Dexter evenly.

Ford held the knife to Dexter's throat. "Just so you know, I'm not going to get any pleasure out of this."

Dexter held his gaze steadily. "That's a lie, isn't it?"

Ford smiled at the reversal of their questions. "Yes, completely."

Dexter closed his eyes as he felt the blade press into his skin, unable to comprehend that this was how it was all going to end.

_This feels so trite. Dexter Morgan, killed by a serial killer, hoisted by his own petard. It's almost embarrassing. _

If there was a Devil, he must be laughing his ass off right then. Dexter held Debra's face in his mind's eye, knowing this was going to destroy her and feeling his heart break at the thought. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her as the knife cut into the flesh of his neck. "I'm so sorry..."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N****: I can't believe I got this chapter finished today. One day off here and there isn't conducive for the muse to do her thing. Just not enough minutes in a day when you still need to take time to shop, clean house, wash etc, to face the next week of work! Anyways, only one more week to go and I'm on holidays – WAHOO! I'm planning on trying to get this story done quickly then. I'm thinking another 5 or 6 chapters hopefully and then I can put this one to bed. :D **

**Okay, so, I don't really know how I feel about this chapter because I wrote part of this a couple of weeks ago and then had to write the rest of the chapter around it. I don't know if it works or not, I guess that is up to you to decide. **

**Anyways, still hope you enjoy... :D**

**Chapter TWENTY**

"There are moments in life when it is all turned inside out-what is real becomes unreal, what is unreal becomes tangible, and all your levelheaded efforts to keep a tight ontological control are rendered silly and indulgent."  
~Aleksandar Hemon

_The Lazarus Project_

"Get the fuck away from him!"

Dexter's eyes snapped open at the sound of the familiar voice.

Ford jerked the knife away from Dexter's throat and swung around. "What the fuck?"

Debra was standing by the edge of the clearing, her gun raised and the look of murder in her eyes. "Move the fuck back," she growled, "and drop the knife."

A relieved look flooded Dexter's face. "Deb."

"Shut the fuck up, I'm as mad as hell at you!" snapped Debra. Her eyes hadn't left Ford. "I said drop the knife otherwise I will fucking put a bullet between your eyes, you piece of low life shit."

Dexter smiled. "I told you that you should meet my sister."

Ford threw the knife away from him and grimaced. "Great, it runs in the family." He sent a defiant look at Debra. "You know, he started this. I was just minding my own business and your whack job brother kidnapped me." Ford smiled innocently. "This was an act of self defence."

Debra had edged around to where the knife was, bending down to pick it up while keeping her gun trained on Ford. She straightened up and immediately went to set Dexter free. "This is an act of self defence?" Debra bit out, as she cut Dexter down.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," agreed an amicable Ford. "I'm overly dramatic by nature, so shoot me." He pulled a face as he eyed Debra's gun warily. "Ah, actually, forget that last part."

Dexter gave a little grunt of pain as he was finally released from his uncomfortable position. He rubbed his wrists and frowned. "You shouldn't be here, Deb."

"You're welcome," said Debra sarcastically. Her attention was back on Ford. "Get face down on the ground, arms out in front." She jerked the gun at him. "NOW!"

Ford gingerly lay face down on the ground, arms stretched out above his head. "I think everyone just needs to stay calm here."

"I am fucking calm!" shouted Debra.

"Oh good," said Ford faintly, "I was worried for a moment."

Dexter walked over and quickly grabbed Ford's arms, pulling them behind the man's back and tying them up with the rope he'd just been hanging by. "I've got this now, Deb. You need to go now." His task finished, Dexter straightened up and walked over to her. "You shouldn't be here," he repeated in concern.

"You shouldn't be here either," said Debra sharply. "What the fuck where you thinking?"

"That this would help," he confessed.

"Well, clearly it didn't." Debra's expression became more determined. "We have to take him in." She hadn't really expected what she'd walked in on and was struggling against flashbacks with the whole LaGuerta thing. This time, Debra knew they had to do the right thing.

Dexter hesitated. "I don't think that's the way to go with this one."

"I'm not letting you kill him, Dexter," said a determined Debra.

Ford lifted his head from the ground. "Listen to your sister, Dexter, she's making a lot of sense."

"Shut up!" Debra and Dexter snapped at him in unison.

Dexter was back to looking at Debra. "He knows too much now. He knows about you, about me, about Harry-"

"What about Dad?" Debra interrupted him.

"That he helped groom me into a serial killer," admitted Dexter.

"Jesus, Dexter," exclaimed Debra in disbelief, "why didn't you just invite the guy to fucking Thanksgiving dinner while you're at it?" She shook her head. "Why the fuck would you tell him all that stuff?"

"I'm not sure," said Dexter slowly. "It just kind of came up in general conversation."

"Fuck me," groaned Debra, "your head really isn't in the game, is it?"

"Doesn't look like it," admitted Dexter unhappily. His tone became more determined. "Deb, you have to go. I'm not putting you in the middle of a situation like this again. It's too much for you, particularly in your condition."

"Oh, fucking don't use this baby to get your own way on this one," snapped Debra.

"You were in a hospital a week ago," said Dexter tensely. "I've got a right to be worried."

"You don't get to play the concerned father when you disappear from my life for a whole week," said Debra angrily.

"You know why that was," said Dexter but still looked guilty.

"She's having your baby?" asked Ford in surprise. "Man, that's keeping things in the family."

"Dexter isn't related to me by blood," snapped Debra.

"Oh sure, well, I guess that makes it fine then."

Debra trained the gun on him. "I'm not taking shit from a guy who cuts of little boy's dicks," she barked out.

"Look, I'm all for live and let live. Whatever floats your boat is fine by me."

Debra's face flushed in anger. "We don't fucking need your approval, shit for brains." She blinked, clearly suddenly realising that she'd just given away another huge family secret. "Oh fuck."

Dexter's expression was sympathetic. "You see, it's easier to do than you think. These things just seem to come up when you talk to the guy."

"I'm a people person," agreed Ford readily.

Dexter put his hand out and directed the gun away from where Debra was pointing it at Ford's head. "I'm not letting you do this for me, not again. I've made this mess and I'm going to clean it up."

"You made this mess because of me," countered Debra stubbornly. "I fucked you up. This is just as much my problem as yours."

"Great," muttered Dexter in annoyance, "now we can't even tell which one of us owns which fuck up. This is getting out of hand."

"This got out of hand a long time ago," shot back Debra. She pressed her lips together. "I'm taking Ford in, Dexter. We have to do this my way. Whatever story he comes up with, it'll just be his word against ours. Everyone will believe us."

"That's a big risk," said Dexter darkly.

"It's the right thing to do," insisted Debra.

"In what way is perjuring yourself the right thing to do?" asked an indignant Ford.

"In the way that it means I don't let my brother cut you up into a million pieces and dump you in the ocean," ground out Debra.

"You make a compelling point."

Debra looked back at Dexter, a note of pleading in her voice now. "Dex, it has to be this way. I'm not going to be a part of killing someone in cold blood, not again."

Dexter looked away and Debra could see the muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought for control. He finally looked back at her. "Alright," he agreed tersely, "but for the record, I think this is a mistake."

"It wouldn't be our first," said Debra flatly.

Dexter looked down at Ford. "Okay, so I'll take him back into town to the police department and I'll see you back at your place."

Debra snorted. "You think I'm an idiot? I'm coming with you."

"I told you I'm not going to kill the guy," said Dexter, looking hurt. "Don't you believe me?"

"Things have already gotten out of hand with this guy more than once today," countered Debra. "Let's just say I think it'd be a good idea if I had your back on this one for a little bit longer."

Dexter didn't look happy. "Okay, fine. We'll take my car, put him in the trunk and drive into town."

Debra nodded her head. "We'll work out the finer details on the trip in."

"You mean get your stories straight," said Ford in disgust. "You know, you two are destroying what little faith I have left in human beings."

"This from the child mutilator," said Debra with even greater disgust. "You don't get the moral higher ground, asshole."

Ten minutes later and Dexter was behind the wheel, navigating the back roads to get back to the main one. Debra stared ahead, trying not to show how frightened she was. This thing with Ford was going to be a nightmare. What kind of cover story could they come up with to explain why she and Dexter were about to produce a bound child murderer from the trunk of their car? Ford knew so much about them, how were they going to dismiss all of his accusations? But then, maybe that would be their saving grace. If Ford was going to start ranting about Dex kidnapping and drugging him and Debra being pregnant with her own brother's child, then maybe it was all going to sound like the rantings of an unbalanced madman? She grimaced. It wasn't overly comforting to realise her life sounded like a paranoid delusion these days. Debra knew not killing Ford was the right thing to do but at what cost was doing the right thing going to come? Would someone actually start listening to Ford at some point? Would they start investigating Dexter again? Last time that had happened, LaGuerta had died. Was saving the life of a piece of scum worth potentially facing the loss of a good person? Debra groaned, wishing things could be black and white again in her life.

Dexter sent her a worried look. "Are you alright? Are you in pain?"

"We're so fucked," she groaned.

"No, we're not. We just have to come up with a good story and stick to it."

Debra looked over at him. "You still want to kill Ford, don't you?"

"He deserves it and will protect us both," said Dexter unapologetically. "It's the logical thing to do."

"But it's not right," argued Debra.

"A lot of things in this world aren't right, but it doesn't necessarily make them wrong."

"That makes no fucking sense."

"I've noticed that about life too," agreed Dexter grimly.

Suddenly there was a loud bang from the trunk and Debra spun around in her seat just in time to see the trunk lid fly up. "Shit, Dexter!" she yelled as she felt the car suddenly feel a little lighter.

Dexter slammed on the brakes and then they were both leaping out of the car to see Ford scrambling to his feet further back down the road. "Who is this guy?" he asked in amazement. "Houdini?"

Ford wasn't hanging around to answer any questions on the matter as he took off running into the trees which lined the lonely dirt road, hands still tied in front of him.

"Fuck!" gasped Debra in horror.

Dexter was already running after the man. "Go further up!" he yelled to her. "Don't let him get back onto the road!"

Debra started to run in the opposite direction along the track, following Dexter's instruction. Ford would undoubtedly be trying to get back on the track and make it to the main road, which they weren't far off now. If he flagged down a car then she and Dexter were both screwed. Debra ran, her heart in her mouth as once again, everything looked to be crumbling around them. Why did everything they touch have to turn to shit? Debra ran up the track for what felt like forever. There was no sign of Ford and she could only hope that Dexter had managed to catch up with the other man. She turned around and started to head back, in case Ford might have popped up on the road behind her. Debra's cheeks were flushed by the time she made it back to the car and she was breathing unevenly, more from adrenalin then the physical work out. She walked back and forth, not sure what to do next when Dexter suddenly appeared further up the road and started to walk back towards her.

"Well?" she called out to him.

Dexter kept walking towards the car. "He got too far ahead of me. I couldn't catch him."

Debra felt physically sick. "Ford got away?"

Dexter slammed down the trunk of his car and walked around into the driver's seat. "No." He climbed into the driver's seat.

She frowned and quickly jumped into the passenger seat, needing to know more. "What do you fucking mean, no? Did he get away or not?"

Dexter started the car engine. "Oh, he got away," he informed Debra calmly. "Got back to the main road before I could get to him. But he got a little ahead of himself. Ford ran out onto the side of the road and took the time to turn around and flip me the bird, at which point a semi-trailer came around the corner a little too wide and ran him down."

Debra gasped. "He's dead?"

Dexter nodded, eyes on the road as he turned the car around, heading back to the cabin to collect Debra's car. "In every sense of the word."

She blinked rapidly. "Are you sure?"

"His head bounced across two lanes of highway, so yeah, I'm pretty comfortable with my diagnosis."

Debra eyed him warily. "You didn't kill him?"

Dexter shot her a quick, unflinching look. "I told you I wouldn't."

Just then the sound of emergency sirens could be heard way off in the distance and Debra knew Dexter was telling her the truth. She tried to work out how she felt about the death of the man and found herself unable to muster up any sympathy. He'd been terrorising and murdering young boys for years, the world was better off without Ford in it and for once, their hands were relatively clean of any blood. Well, their version of clean, anyways. Debra wondered if that made her a horrible human being to feel next to nothing over a death. All these kinds of events were happening so abruptly these days. She'd started off the day feeling empowered, then she'd been terrified for Dexter's life, then pissed, then scared again when Ford had escaped and promptly gotten himself killed and now Debra's emotions were trying to settle on the next way to feel.

As always, her old standby of anger rescued her from her confusion. She'd come so close today to losing it all. The mental image of Dexter hanging there with Ford holding a knife to his throat came back to her, along with the horror of how close she'd been to losing Dexter forever. If she'd just been seconds later, Dexter would be dead. The thought galvanised her into action. "Stop the car," Debra ordered him abruptly, unable to just sit there in silence and pretend none of these things had happened today.

Dexter glanced at her quickly. "What?"

"Stop the fucking car, Dex," Debra ordered him, her voice rising in anger.

Dexter immediately pulled the car up on the deserted road and turned the engine off. His look was full of concern. "What's wrong?"

Debra stared at him in disbelief. "What's fucking wrong?" she bit out. Debra got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

Dexter was quickly following her as Debra stalked to the front of the car to meet up with him. Dexter's face was a picture of confusion as they faced off in front of the car on the deserted track. Debra couldn't stand it. She shoved at his chest, hard, with both hands, catching Dexter off-guard and making him take a steadying step back to catch himself. "You dumb fuck!" Debra yelled at him. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

Dexter straightened up and glared at her for the attack. "I had it all under control," he retorted hotly.

"You had shit," threw back Debra angrily. "If I hadn't been tracking your ass you'd be dead right now!" The thought caused another surge of adrenalin to course through her body and Debra slapped at his chest again. "You dumb, fucking shit!" It felt good to be hitting him, to release the fear she'd felt when she'd realised how close to death Dexter had been. And to punish him for daring to disappear from her life this last week. Debra continued her assault on him until Dexter was forced to grab at her wrists to try and subdue her but she wasn't in the mood to be subdued. Fighting back harder, Dexter was required to use more of his strength to try and stop her, eventually backing her up until Debra felt the bumper bar of the car against the back of her knees. She pushed back but then Dexter was using all of his weight to force her back onto the hood, covering her with his own body to stop any further attack. Debra squirmed under him, trying to buck him off but Dexter had her pinned with his greater weight and strength.

"Stop it!" he ordered her fiercely. "You'll hurt yourself!"

Debra was still seething. "And does that scare you? Me getting hurt?"

"You know it does!" he snapped, grabbing Debra's wrists and pinning them above her head to hold her more securely.

"Good!" she snapped, glaring up at him. "Then you know how I felt seeing you being a dumb prick with that guy today. You scared the shit out of me, Dexter. I fucking hate it when you do that!" Debra shoved her face in his. "It's good that you get a bit of your own medicine now and then," she announced hotly.

"You're always scaring the shit out of me," he retorted angrily. "Everything about you makes me, makes me-"

Dexter seemed to be having trouble finding his words but she was quickly becoming distracted by something the proximity of their bodies had just made her realise. "Hard?" she offered up defiantly but her voice wavered just a little bit and ruined the effect. There was no mistaking the erection currently pushing into her thigh as Dexter had her bent back over on the hood of the car. The blood was pumping through Debra's body from their fight and every nerve-ending was on fire.

Dexter was staring at her wide-eyed, breathing ragged as he shook his head at her. Debra had to wonder if that silent denial wasn't so much a vain attempt to ignore the physical reaction of his body to hers but rather to refute the entirety of how this kept happening between them. Her head hurt trying to figure it out and Debra gave up trying. All she knew was that if felt incredibly good to have Dexter's weight pressing down on her and to have him back this close after the week long separation. For now, that was enough. Debra arched her back, forcing a stifled whimper from Dexter's lips and she felt herself surge with a heady sense of power. For so long she'd felt like Dexter had the ultimate say in her emotions and it was good to claim some of that power back, make him as helpless around her as she always felt around him. Debra grabbed at his shirt front and pulled him down into a heated kiss. She'd expected him to resist, to pull away and tell her that they couldn't do this, not again, that it was crazy but instead Dexter returned her kiss just as fiercely as it was given. Debra lifted her feet off the ground and wrapped them around Dexter's waist, securing him against her body.

He groaned into their kiss before breaking it. Dexter's hot, uneven breath was on her face, his own flushed with obvious desire. "Fuck you, Debra Morgan," he cursed her raggedly for not helping the complications between them.

Debra couldn't care less. "Yes," she agreed readily, heart pounding, body screaming for me, "fuck me, Dexter, fuck me now." If they were going to hell, then they may as well go all the way.

Dexter made a guttural sound of excited acquiescence and then he was crushing her lips underneath his again. One of his hands let go of wrists but the other still kept her hands pinned above her head. Dexter's free hand fumbled between their bodies, undoing first her jean pants and pulling them down and then his own trousers, just enough to free his straining manhood. Debra barely had time to register the feel of the cool metal of the car hood on her bare backside before Dexter was plunging himself deep inside of her and that became the only thing she could feel. Arching her back again, Debra let out a cry of satisfaction at being so intimately entwined with him again. Their coupling was a fierce one, no time for exploration or tenderness, each one just taking from the other with a greed fuelled by their separation and near death experience.

It barely took anytime before Debra felt an explosion deep inside of her, every nerve in her body dissolving into convulsions of pleasure. She clung tightly to Dexter, the only solid thing left in her world as she climaxed noisily underneath him. Dexter followed suite almost immediately, Debra feeling him surge against her one more time before experiencing his own powerful release. Her whole body throbbed, awash in endorphins, as they both struggled to find their breath again. Dexter lifted his head from where he'd buried it in her neck and kissed her deeply and Debra returned it freely, enjoying these last few seconds of post-coital bliss before their brains started working again.

Dexter broke the kiss but kept his face close to hers as he looked down at her with groggy, sated eyes. "Polo," he rasped to her, breathing still ragged as he kept his gaze locked with hers.

Debra's heart soared at the sound of the single word and she let go of the breath she hadn't been realising she'd been holding since he'd walked out of her hospital room. "About fucking time," she said unevenly, managing a shaky smile.

Dexter groaned and buried his face back in her neck. "I'm sorry," he whispered against her sweaty flesh. "I'm so sorry, Deb."

Debra didn't know if Dexter was apologising for today or about the last week or just all of it but she didn't care. She didn't need his apologies, she just needed him, as fucked up and confusing as that need was. Debra hugged Dexter to her more tightly, knowing they hadn't solved anything and just made things more complicated yet again but for a few precious minutes more, she let herself not care.

**A/N****: So, I hope Ford's demise wasn't too disembodied for you (no pun intended). Seeing as this was Deb's chapter, ie we could only see things she saw, then it had to happen that way. Like I said, not sure how I feel about this chapter but anyways, at least that is one psycho taken care of and no, I haven't forgotten about Yates. ;) **


End file.
